


Woodsfolk

by FyrinnIce369



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: A little implied/referenced self harm, Animal Attack, Animal Harm, Animal Violence, Bad coping mechanisms, Blood, Gay Panic™, Hurt/Comfort, It's a werewolf fic, Jake's parents kinda suck too tbh but that's basically canon so, Like he really sucks he's so shitty, M/M, Relatively graphic descriptions of pain but it's not too bad cause I'm a wuss so, Slow Updates, Tag As I Go, Violence, Vomiting, dwight's dad is an asshole, injuries/blood, painful transformation, self inflicted injuries, uh jake's a feral woodsman and dwight is a sad boy who needs love, we needed one and I'm filling the niche
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrinnIce369/pseuds/FyrinnIce369
Summary: The last thing Jake expects to find on his early morning walk is a man lying on the floor covered in his own blood. Unfortunately for him, that’s exactly what he does find, and he can't really just leave the guy there, can he?things may change in this fic as I continue working on it, but don't be alarmed by that
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield/Jake Park
Comments: 45
Kudos: 114





	1. I Won't Ask and Neither Should You

Jake exhales and rolls over in his bed, eyes cracking open to see the gentle morning light flooding into the room with a cool glow. It was early. His sleep had been light last night. The wolves had been out and were howling, loud enough to stir him from his sleep on multiple occasions. 

He sits up and shakes the remnants of sleep out of his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes as his feet hit the cold hardwood floor. He pads over to his dresser and pulls on a singlet before pulling out one of his thicker flannels, buttoning it up. His cargo pants and thick socks also get put on before he heads to the kitchen, where he swiftly prepares himself a tea and a bowl of oatmeal, contemplating the fruits as he chops them into the bowl. 

He'd have to think about preserving them for the winter soon. There's more than enough for one man but with the summer having come to a close a little less than a week ago the harvests would start getting smaller. His gaze diverts to the window, viewing the not yet shifting colours of the leaves, visible in the serene dawn lighting. They would start changing soon enough.

He finishes his breakfast, giving the dishes a rinse before shrugging on his coat and stepping into his sturdy hiking shoes. He makes his way outside, gaze landing momentarily on the half finished woodcarving he had been working on for the last few days, before he diverts off onto one of the many paths surrounding his cabin. 

Jake had been walking for a little while, pushing snapped branches off the path and listening out for any deer along the tracks, as well as just enjoying the crisp morning air as the weak rays of the rising sun filtered through the trees and created speckled patterns on the ground. As he watches the ground ahead, something shimmery catches his eye. Filled with intrigue, he approaches it, crouching down to see drops of blood littering the forest floor, reflecting the morning light. He looks around and spots some more up ahead, as well as some more broken branches along the path. Curiosity growing, he stays quiet and presses forward. If something is injured, he wouldn’t want to startle it.

He remains cautious, near silent in his approach as he continues to follow the trail, wary of where he places his feet. He starts to think he's lost the trail of whatever he is following until he hears... _crying?_

It almost sounded human. He stays quiet in his approach but the noise gets more distinct as he gets closer. It sounds like a man, crying in pain. 

"Hello?" He calls out, hopefully loud enough that the other can hear him. His voice is gruff and quiet from disuse. The crying immediately hushes. _At least,_ Jake thinks, _that means whoever's here heard me._ He continues moving through the forest, honing in on the source of the noise, which is nothing but quiet whimpers at this point. He was about to call out again when his eyes land on a man. He's lying face up on the floor, breathing in quick, heavy breaths. His arms are covered in so much blood that Jake struggles to tell where it's actually coming from. Blood has soaked into the fabric of his shirt in various spots. A backpack lies a few feet from the man, it seems to be pretty empty of any contents.

Jake moves over to the man with haste, who flinches away from him, rolling onto his side slightly so that his back is somewhat facing Jake. The man's face is pulled into a grimace. Jake crouches down beside him and the man hesitantly looks over to him, letting out a breath when he realises it's a human. Jake feels guilty for a moment, recognising that he'd startled the man with his haste. 

"Sorry." He says sheepishly. "Are you alright?" He asks, not entirely sure how to approach the situation. The mans head shifts toward him and he lets out a small hum of acknowledgement, shifting to be back on his back with another grimace. So he's definitely conscious and he could hear and understand words, that is good, but he's evidently in pain. Jake takes a deep breath to try and calm himself down and figure out what to do but the smell of blood instantly hits the back of his throat. If he wasn't so accustomed to it, due to years of living out in the woods, he would have retched. "I gotta.. get you home so we can clean you up. Can you sit up?" The other nods again and Jake extends a hand out to him, helping him to sit up. He gives the man a moment to recover before he presses further. "... think you can stand?"

"Yeah" the man's voice is hoarse, but at least he can talk. He reaches to his left and blindly grabs the bag by his side, pulling it over to himself and zipping it closed. Jake silently takes it from the man, slinging it over his own shoulder before offering himself as support, helping the man to his feet. An arm is slung over Jake's shoulder and the other one grips tightly at his arm. 

"Name's Jake, by the way. C'mon, I don't live far."

"M' Dwight." The other breathes out, Jake nods in acknowledgement. The man frequently stumbles as they walk and the vice grip to his arm never falters. Jake holds him up and basically supports his whole weight as they walk. He's thankful that his coat is water resistant, so at least he'll be able to wash the blood off it easily. 

They continue walking for a while longer, the walk much slower than it usually would be, given Dwight's condition, but aside from fatigue he seemed to be improving, which Jake found a little peculiar, but he isn't going to complain. Walking became a lot easier as the other became more capable of supporting his own weight. The vice grip on his arm never loosens though.

Eventually they make it back to Jake's cabin and Jake quickly ushers the other inside. He places the (rather empty feeling) backpack down by the door. He then moves into the bathroom, pulling out his medkit and wetting a hand towel. When he comes back out Dwight is standing idly in the doorway, looking around with a squinted gaze. "You alright?" He asks, seeing the unreadable look on the other's face.

"Oh, uh, yeah," Dwight says, turning his head to Jake, his gaze is unfocused. "I... can't really see. I don't have my glasses." He says quietly, eyes shifting to the floor as his face grows warm. _So that's what it was then._

Jake crosses the small room and moves into the kitchen space, grabbing a bucket from under the sink. He fills it with warm water and places it on the table before he leads Dwight over there. 

"The cuts need to be cleaned to avoid infection." He says, watching the other nod and shift awkwardly. Jake pulls out a chair. "Sit" he instructs, and something about his tone of voice had Dwight complying without much hesitation. He pulls a chair up to Dwight so that he is sitting face to face with the other. Upon closer inspection of Dwights face, he notices a big, silvery scar running diagonally across it, from his eyebrow to under his cheekbone. He's surprised he didn’t notice it sooner. There's another by the right side of his jaw too. It seems this wasn't his first time dealing with cuts, then. _Curious._ Jake feels it would be rude to ask. 

The other thing he can't help but notice as he sits is Dwight's eyes. They’re a light, warm brown but have a striking rim of yellow around the pupil which catches him slightly off guard. There's a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and he can picture glasses sitting on his face quite nicely. He can't help but find Dwight pretty cute. 

Shrugging the thought off, he takes one of Dwight's arms and begins wiping it down with the damp towel, removing the blood and grime from the skin so that he could better deal with any cuts. It seemed like they had stopped bleeding for the most part. Dwight winces as the rag presses into his arm and as the blood gets cleaned off he also notices some mild bruising. He dunks the towel into the bucket and watches with some fascination as the water begins to turn red, methodically cleaning the dried blood from the skin. He gently wipes down the other arm as well. He notices some more old, closed scars on the man's arms as he removes the caked blood. _Dwight really doesn’t look after himself,_ he can’t help but think.

"Got any other cuts?" Jake asks, dunking the rag back into the bucket.

"Nah, it's.. uh, it's just the arms, I think." Dwight says, looking down at all the fresh cuts that littered his already marked skin. Jake unzips the medkit and pulls out the disinfectant, setting it on the table as he stands and takes the rag and bucket to the sink. He tips out the bloodied water before rinsing out the towel until the water runs clear. He gives it a rink and pours a little of the antiseptic onto it before sitting back down and gently pressing it into one of Dwight's cuts. The other hisses slightly at the contact but doesn't flinch away. Jake continues to do this to the other cuts, thankful that the bleeding has all but stopped by now. He makes sure to press extra lightly at the spots where faint bruising is evident.

"You're.. dealing with this very well," Jake says, casting his gaze up to Dwight's face briefly before going back to the cuts.

"Hah, well, I... I've got a high pain tolerance, I guess. Plus, I've had uh, a scratch or two in the past..." he indicates to himself vaguely with a short laugh and a shrug and Jake is once again reminded of the long scar across the other's face, as well as the many lining his arms. He hums in acknowledgement.

"So... what happened?" Jake asks with hesitance, gaze not travelling up from the scrapes as he speaks.

"I.. uh..." he looks up briefly to see Dwight's face has flushed, "came for a walk but lost my glasses, so I... tripped." Dwight explains, his voice is quiet and his fingers drum idly at his thighs as his foot taps the floor. Jake isn't convinced that's the whole story but he doesn’t press further, after all it wasn't his business.

"Lucky you didn't get attacked by a wolf, they were out last night." Jake comments, finishing up with the last few scrapes. "Kept me up all night."

Dwight lets out an awkward laugh and shifts in his seat. "Hahah, y-yeah I guess. I'm never usually lucky..." he shifts again and his left hand comes up to rub at his neck and shoulder. 

Jake sits back and places the hand towel on the table, screwing the lid back onto the disinfectant and packing it away into the medkit. "D'you wanna shower? I can get you some clean clothes." Dwight hesitates for a brief moment before nodding, avoiding eye contact as if Jake wasn't the one that offered. "Alright. I'll dress the bigger cuts afterwards." Jake says, standing and placing the rag in the sink before walking off to the bedroom to pull out some clothes for Dwight to put on.

When Jake exits the room he notices Dwight stifle a yawn and he wonders how much sleep the other had gotten during the night. He wonders what exactly he was doing out here too, but Jake didn't find it his place to pry, so he holds off on asking. "Here." Dwight stands up and Jake hands him the change of clothes.

"How.. blind are you?" Jake asks after a moment, trying to gauge what the extent of help Dwight needed was. Dwight's gaze diverts from Jake and his face goes warm.

"Oh I’m really blind. I... I'm gonna be honest, I don't really know what you look like. Like, I can see you, but there's no details or anything. Your uh, your hair's black and your coat's dark green, and I know your eyes are dark from when you cleaned the cuts before but that's about it." Dwight lets out a nervous laugh and Jake nods thoughtfully. 

"Must be scary, out in the woods. Good thing I found you." Jake mutters, more to himself than anything.

"Y-yeah.. my car wasn't too far s-so I... I would have been okay but I... I do really appreciate the help." The sincerity of the statement catches Jake off guard.

"It's no problem." Jake says, before turning off to the bathroom. "C'mon." He steps into the small room filled only with the bare essentials. Dwight steps in awkwardly after him and sets the clothes down by the sink. "This tap's hot, this one's cold. Don't be too long, hot water runs out pretty quick." Jake explains briefly, pointing to the taps as he lists them. He sees Dwight nod and hears him utter a thank you before he steps out of the room, pulling the door shut.

He smirks to himself a little when he hears a yelp from the bathroom, Dwight presumably getting splashed by the cold water. He heads back into the kitchen space and pulls out the bread loaf from it's box, cutting off two slices from the homemade loaf and taking a jar of jam from the fridge. He spreads some onto one of the slices before sitting back at the table and turning his head toward the window. It feels weird having someone else in his house after it had just been him for so long. He shrugs the feeling off however, knowing it's only a temporary thing. 

Dwight exits the bathroom dressed in the clothes Jake had handed him, carrying his old, blood soaked ones in his hands. The clothes fit him surprisingly well, they seem big around the shoulders but other than that the two seemed to be similar in height and size. Jake finishes his bread as Dwight exits the bathroom, which, admittedly, he was eating rather slowly. He finishes chewing the last bit in his mouth, watching as Dwight stifles another yawn before he stands up to dig out a plastic bag for the guy, finding one with some difficultly. He walks over to Dwight and hands him the bag, who thanks him as he drops the dirty clothes in. He ties off the bag and drops it into his backpack.

"Want some bread?" Jake says, indicating to the loaf when Dwight turns back around. 

"Oh, uh, are you sure? I don't want to waste any-" another yawn cuts off his sentence temporarily, "sorry, any more of your resources..." Dwight says, looking away sheepishly.

"Eh, need to make another loaf anyway." Jake says with a shrug, turning back to the loaf. Dwight follows behind and sits back down at the table. "Jam?" Jake asks, holding up the jar.

"Oh, uh, yes please." Dwight's almost excessive use of manners makes Jake smile a little to himself, but his face is quickly wiped neutral as he turns to hand Dwight the bread. "Thank you." he other says, accepting the slice. Jake watches silently as the other essentially inhales the piece and he turns to cut another, offering it to Dwight without a word. Dwight took it gratefully and eats it with a bit more reserve this time. 

"This is really good, thank you." Dwight says around a mouthful of bread. 

"No problem." Jake says, filling a pot and turning on the stove. "Want a drink?" He pulls a mug down from a rack and drops the tea strainer from the morning into the heating water.

"Oh, um, just- just some water, thanks." Jake grabs down a glass and fills it with some of the cold water from the fridge buzzing in the corner of the kitchen and hands it to Dwight, who nods in thanks. When the water finishes boiling Jake switches of the stove and pours himself a mug, coming to sit back down across from Dwight and flipping open the medkit. He pulls out the dressings and Dwight wordlessly offers Jake his arm, who inspects it briefly before applying the dressings to a few of the deeper, longer cuts.

"I should.. I should probably head off after this, huh?" Dwight says, eyes flitting to the door.

"You got something on?" Jake asks. There's no bite in the sentence, just curiosity. 

"Oh, well... no, but I live pretty far, and I'm sure you have something to do so I should stop bothering you." Dwight shifts in his seat and rubs his eyes. 

"If you live far you should rest before you leave. Not safe to drive while tired." Jake states, standing from his seat to place the mug and glass into the sink. 

"Oh I really don't want to impose anymore! It's okay-" Dwight rushes to say but Jake shakes his head to dismiss him.

"It's alright. I've got stuff to do in the garden. Just come and get me when you’re ready to go." His voice is light but his face is stern and it leaves Dwight with no room to argue. With that, Jake heads out, closing the door behind him. He steps out onto the pathing in front of his house and is about to walk around to the side when a crow flies down from a nearby tree to land at his feet. He smiles and squats down to the squawking creature, scratching it's head gently. He pulls out some of the crust from the earlier bread from his pocket, chucking it to the bird, which caws happily. "You always know when I'm eating lunch, huh?" Jake says to the crow, which looks up at him briefly before going back to pecking at the bread. He runs his fingers over the chest of the creature and smiles softly before standing back up and heading over to the half formed chair by the side of the house, pulling on his thick gloves before getting back to work.


	2. Still Breathing

Dwight wakes with a start, eyes landing on the unfocused foreign ceiling. It takes his brain a moment to remember that he had been sleeping on the couch in Jake's living room. He rubs his eyes and is wholly unsurprised when his vision gets no clearer. He sits up with a sigh and realises, a little belatedly, that it was incredibly stupid of him to let his guard down so much around a man he just met. _You are a fucking idiot, Fairfield,_ he thinks to himself, face palming as he sits up. He can't change the past though, so all he can do is be thankful he's still breathing. He stretches as he stands, hearing a few of his joints pop with the movement. He registers also that the sharp ache in his bones had reduced to a muted discomfort. He figures he slept for about 40 minutes, but he has no way of being entirely sure. He looks over the uncovered cuts on his arms and sees that some of the smaller nicks had already started to close over. 

He stands in the centre of the room for a moment, contemplating his next move before remembering that Jake said he would be outside. He sticks his hand out on impulse as he navigates the foreign environment, trying to avoid knocking anything over. Thankfully Jake's house is pretty bare of any furniture. He reaches the door with no real issue, opening it and stepping outside, making sure to pick up his backpack on the way out. He looks around briefly but fails to find the man until he hears something to the side of the house and follows the noise, finding Jake working at a hunk of wood which Dwight vaguely recognises as a chair.

"Uh, h-hey..." Dwight calls out, waddling over to Jake. The guy briefly looks up before returning to the work in front of him. "Whatcha doin'?" Dwight asks, looking over the piece Jake was working on.

"Makin' a chair." Jake answers, chipping away at the hunk of wood. He places the tools down and dusts himself off, pulling off the thick gloves and standing. "You ready?" He asks, shaking his hair out of his eyes. 

"Wha? Oh, yeah. I, um, my car is just in the parking lot for the campground." He says, kicking idly at the dirt. Jake gives a sharp nod and begins walking, but he stops and waits for a moment for Dwight to catch up. He does so, his unfocused gaze trained firmly to the uneven ground so he can avoid stumbling. He feels nervous without his glasses but tries not to let it show. Besides, he'd walked through these woods without his glasses many times in the past. "Thanks, uh, for everything. You didn’t have to help me but you did and I really appreciate it.. also, uh, thanks for.. not, murdering me, while I slept on your couch." Dwight laughs awkwardly, hand coming across his chest to rub at his shoulder. Jake lets out a light hearted laugh and Dwight feels his lips turn up into a smile. Jake had a nice laugh. 

"It's not an issue." Jake says. Dwight squints up at him and he can vaguely make out that the other was sending him a warm smile, making his face feel just as warm. He looks back to the ground.

"How can I make it up to you? And, um, when's a good time for me to return the clothes?" Dwight asks. Jake had shown him so much kindness and he couldn’t help but feel bad for using the mans resources, including his shower, food, medical supplies and most importantly his time. He would have managed on his own, god knows he had been for 11 years now, but the kindness was definitely appreciated. He can't quite remember the last time someone was kind to him. He shakes off the thought before it got too heavy in his heart. 

"You don't have to make it up to me. And you can return them whenever. I'm almost always around." Jake's voice snaps him out of his thoughts, speaking with a shrug. _He was almost always here_. The statement hits Dwight and sticks. Until today he had been unaware that the forest had any permanent residents, and the thought irked him. He wonders if there is anyone else who lives in the forest, or if it was just Jake. He hopes it's the latter.

His answer doesn’t sit well with Dwight, either. Jake had done so much for him, none of which he feels like he deserves. There had to be something he could do to repay him. He knows he would have been fine, but that just makes him feel worse about Jake wasting valuable resources on him.

He looks down at his arms, running his fingers over the uncovered fresh cuts. Some of the smaller ones would be closed by the afternoon. They closed so quick but the scars never truly left. He sighs.

"You alright?" Jake asks, looking from the path to Dwight. 

"Wha? Oh, y-yeah.. I'm alright." He says, casting his eyes briefly to Jake before fixing his unfocused gaze back on the ground. In the next moment Dwight's foot catches on an unseen root jutting out of the path. He trips and stumbles, hands shooting out in front of him to break his fall but Jake catches his arm before he can hit the ground, helping him to regain his balance. Once Dwight is back on steady feet Jake's hand slides down to sit loosely above his wrist, but he doesn’t remove it from Dwight's arm. The hold on his arm isn't uncomfortable or threatening, Dwight knew it was simply a reassurance from Jake regarding his poor eyesight and he appreciated the support, walking with slightly less caution knowing that if he were to stumble the other would catch him. "Thanks." He says, sending Jake an apologetic smile, face growing warm in embarrassment.

"C'mon, we're not far." Jake says, looking away. His face appears neutral but his voice lacks any bite as they kept moving. Dwight knew they were close to the carpark but he stays quiet, letting Jake guide him as if he were a stranger to these woods. He wishes he was.

— 

Dwight feels tired as he turns his car into the parking space for campers and visitors of the forest, thankful to find the lot empty save for himself. He parks the car and pulls his glasses off with a sigh, tucking them into their case and setting them down in the glovebox. He grabs the backpack from the passenger seat and steps out of the car, closing the vehicle and locking it before diverting his gaze to the setting sun. Thin yellow light still streams through the trees but was disappearing fast, he figures he has about 30 minutes to walk into the forest and find himself a spot before it got too dark. 

He stuffs the key into the front pocket of the backpack, ensuring it's properly zipped shut before slinging it over his shoulder and heading out along one of the familiar beaten tracks between the trees. He would have brought his glasses with him but they were too important for them to end up lost or broken, as they had a few times in the past. It was the same reason his phone was left in the car, too.

He walks for twenty odd minutes before slowing, stopping in a small clearing surrounded on all sides by the rapidly darkening woods. The sun was just about to dip behind the horizon as he drops the backpack to the ground. He pulls his shirt off and deliberates for a brief second before pulling off his pants as well, shoving them into the bag. As humiliating as it felt, he knows from experience that he would prefer to be able to put them back on in one piece later, rather than have a false sense of dignity right now. He picks up the bag and hangs it on a branch of a nearby tree. His eyes glance over some cuts carved into the trunk of the tree and his heart fills with shame. He looks away. 

Dwight steps back into the centre of the small clearing and sits down, pulling his knees up to his chest. a shiver rakes down his spine.

The muted ache which had settled into his limbs about an hour ago starts to increase in intensity, the pain rising to something more akin to a burning feel and he knows the time draws nearer to sundown. He closes his eyes and wishes this could just be over with, watching the final light of the day disappear through his eyelids in the form of gradually darkening shifts. At least the nights were shorter at the moment.

—

"This your car?" Jake asks, hand falling from Dwight's wrist. The other nods, dropping the backpack from his shoulder to the floor. He rummages around in the front pocket for a moment before pulling out his keys, Unlocking the vehicle and pulling out his glasses case from the glove compartment, slipping the lenses onto his face and blinking a few times. He feels relief wash over his conscious at the return of one of his senses. He looks over to Jake and sends him a smile, unable to help feeling slightly overwhelmed by the man before him. He had no idea Jake was so handsome. He feels his face grow warm and he quickly looks away.

"Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you? When I return your clothes I can bring you some stuff if you need it? I'm sure it's not particularly easy or convenient to get supplies out here." Dwight offers, still avoiding meeting the other's eyes.

"I..." Jake hesitates for a moment and Dwight holds his breath in anticipation, "that'd be good. I'm short a few things." He finally answers. Dwight sends him a wide smile, happy to be able to give something back to the man who offered him so much more than he deserved.

"Oh, great!" Dwight says, before pausing for a moment, "do you, uh... do you have a phone? You could send me a list of what you need and I'll, um, pick it up for you?" He offers. Once again he expects the man to say no but Jake gives him a curt nod, catching Dwight by surprise. "Ok, cool." He responds, before turning around to take his phone out of the glovebox in his car. He opens it to contacts and hands it to Jake, who pauses in thought for a brief moment before typing in his number and handing the device back. "I have work tomorrow but I can come by the next day to drop the clothes and stuff off if you'd like." Dwight says, only mildly distracted by the thick locks of Jake's hair falling in front of his warm, dark eyes. Jake nods and his lips twitch up into another brief smile before he returns to a neutral expression. The smile catches Dwight off guard and brings a subtle warmth to his face that he prays isn't visible to Jake. "Ok, I'll uh... see you in a few days then, yeah?" 

"Sounds good. Drive safe." Jake says, voice surprisingly gentle given his neutral expression. Dwight sends him another smile and offers another 'thank you' before hopping into the car and pulling the door shut behind him. He offers Jake a final wave before turning the car on. Jake waves back and turns around, walking off in the direction they had come from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh I have nothing really to add,, stay safe and look after yourselves lads  
> I hope you're enjoying so far!


	3. Perceptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may edit this more later but look, I just wanted to post ok

The drive back to his apartment is mentally draining for Dwight. The moment his car turns out of the forest he's struck with an unpleasant mix of sadness and frustration, and he once again finds himself wishing Jake never found him lying on the forest floor, post transformation.

As for the emotions? The sadness is almost inevitable. He always feels like shit after a full moon, lamenting for a time long ago where his life had a sense of normality. It was still pretty mediocre when he was 16, but god was it better than his life now. At least he still felt human back then.

And the frustration? He figures that's linked to Jake. It isn’t that Jake had done anything wrong. It was quite the opposite, actually. _And that's the problem._

Dwight can't remember the last time someone showed him real, genuine kindness. And the main issue with that was how, when Jake had found him, the wolfish part of his brain had still been somewhat active. The kindness left an impression on him, he feels bonded to the man, and that small part of his brain wants to cling to him. 

Every other part of Dwight’s instincts and rational thought is screaming at him, trying to fight against this. He knows if he grows attached to Jake it would only end up with both of them hurting. He hates that he allowed himself to be found in such a compromised state of mind.

Plus, he had interacted with Jake only _once. How weak of him, to grow an attachment to a man who had shown him just one shred of human decency._ His knuckles are white as they grip the steering wheel. The constant war with a part of himself he doesn’t have much control over is exhausting. 

The other problem, however, is as such: the event played out in such a way that he had no choice but to go back to Jake's house and return the clothes, as well as what ever supplies he offered to buy for Jake. He acknowledges that seeing the man again wouldn’t help his case, but also that his options were limited. He heaves an exhausted sigh.

He knows he probably shouldn’t return to that forest during the next full moon. It would be safer for both if them if he didn’t. But it was the closest place he could go, unless he wanted to move cities again, or drive for hours. He knows his financial situation couldn’t accommodate for that right now, though. He'd just have to do his best to avoid the man's house. Something tells him it wouldn’t be that simple, but he does his best to bury the thought. He has a month to think about it. Or, well, avoid thinking about it.

—

When he finally arrives at his apartment, Dwight essentially b-lines for the bathroom, dropping his bag by the door and pulling off the borrowed sweater. A few more fresh cuts littered his chest which he had failed to mention to Jake. It wasn’t as if he was worried about them getting infected or anything, none of his cuts had thus far. The quick recovery rate was the only thing that Dwight could see himself finding somewhat ok about being a werewolf, but the rest of it sucked. 

He skims across his reflection in the mirror, gaze lingering at all the scars littering his body, old and new, before landing on his face. His eyes still hold traces of the bright, garish yellow from the full moon and the bags under them are dark, prominent and ugly. _He looks terrible._ His eyes trace the long scar across his face with distaste. It was one of his first scars, self inflicted like a few others during his first few transformations. He remembers being so angry and so frightened that he would scratch and claw at his own skin and fur, trying to puzzle out what was happening to him and why. He's starting to get used to it after so long but it still sucks just as much, the marks littering his body serving as a constant reminder of the monster that he thinks he is. He mostly feels detached and tired nowadays. He turns his gaze away from the mirror.

Dwight knows he's already showered today but his conscience is heavy, guilt and regret weigh in his heart. He feels dirty, not in any physical way, he knows, but he can't think of a better coping mechanism in the moment than standing under the warm water. He knows that sulking in the shower for half an hour won't change what he is, either, that nothing would, but at least it offers a place for him to cry in peace and pretend his troubles could be washed down the drain just as easily as the water.

He exits the bathroom a fair while later and pulls on some clean clothes, pulling out his own dirty clothes from the bag they were in and dropping them with the clothes of Jake's he had borrowed. He would take them down to get cleaned later. For now he heads into the kitchen and shoves whatever leftovers he can find in the fridge into his mouth, without much regard for what he was actually eating. The bread Jake had given him had been delicious, but had done little to quench his hunger after such a long night. Plus, recovering post transformation always saps him of all his energy and makes him hungry.

Feeling mildly more satisfied, he heads back to his room and types out a quick text to Jake, telling him that this was his number and asking him to reply with what he needs when he feels like it, before walking over to his bed and crawling under the covers. He knows it's only about 11am but the nap he had at Jakes, while enabling him to drive safely, hadn't been enough to make up for a full sleepless night and he was still overwhelmingly tired.

It's late afternoon when he next wakes. He rolls over and notes how his body feels a lot less sore, as he had expected. He sits up and slides his glasses back on. His back pops as he stretches and he groans, but acknowledges that some of the tightness in his back had been alleviated with the loud crack. He stands and picks up the dirty clothes from in front of the bathroom before heading down to the laundry room, keeping his head down.

—

Dwight’s car pulls into the parking lot in the forest and feelings of nausea and dread instantly wash over him. He knows he's only here to drop the stuff off for Jake but he can't help but feel sick at the sight of the place he has spent many sleepless nights marauding. It felt wrong to be here for anything other than a transformation and it had his mind and body on edge in anticipation, as if the full moon didn't happen just two days ago. He steers his car into a park and switches off the engine. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, doing his best to try and convince his body that it was ok, that he wasn’t here for the regularly scheduled suffering. He lets out a breath and opens his eyes, picking up his phone to send Jake a quick text telling him he was here before shoving his phone deep into his pocket.

He gives himself another few moments to try and release the tension from his body before opening his eyes again, swinging open the car door and stepping out. He'd only been here during the day once, when he first moved to this town. He takes another moment to just stand there and observe the forest, trying to push past tainted memories and appreciate the beauty of it. It was.. nice, but the residual tension in his body forbids him from fully appreciating the visuals. There were only bad memories of being here. He grabs the bags out of the back of the car, locks it and heads down the path he recognises as the one leading to Jake's house, eyes trained to the ground and brain tuning out the sounds of the forest, with some difficulty. _If he pretended he wasn’t here maybe he could relax a little before getting to Jake's house._ He tries to focus on that thought, letting the objective of his visit cloud the thoughts of where he was.

He continues to walk in a dissociative state, paying little attention to the forest around him and just focusing on the path, relying on muscle memory to navigate back to Jake's house. Because of this, he arrives in front of the house sooner than he realises he would. The home before him is quaint and rustic looking and the realisation hits him that Jake probably built it himself. There's a garden to the right of it which he failed to notice the other day. He stands there absently for a few moments, admiring the house before he shakes his head slightly, snapping out of his daze. He follows the path to the front door and takes a breath before knocking. 

Jake opens the door just a few moments later and smiles at Dwight. "Hey," he says simply.

"Uh, hi! How're.. how're you?" Dwight asks, sending Jake an awkward smile in return, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"I'm alright. How're you?" Jake asks, casting his gaze down briefly to Dwight's arms. A few of the scrapes were still bandaged from the other day but most of the others have healed over, which is unsurprising to Dwight. 

"Yeah, I'm, uh.. I'm good. The cuts are healing pretty well, too." Dwight says, noticing Jake observing them, also looking down at his arms.

"That's good," Jake smiles. "Come in," he adds, stepping out of the doorway to let Dwight enter.

Jake watches the man hesitate for a moment, his body language tight. He could read the unease off him as if he were reading the pages of a book. Dwight steps over the threshold and gives Jake another awkward smile. He wanders over to the table and places the bags he was carrying down with a heavy thud. Jake eyes the man for a moment more before pushing the door shut and stepping back over to the kitchen space. He silently observes the other as he rummages through the bags. Firstly he pulls out the borrowed clothes, handing them back to Jake. 

Dwight was on edge and Jake can't really blame him. He was a near stranger and his last experience in the forest evidently wasn’t very pleasant. He does his best to ensure his own presence is as unthreatening as possible. He doesn’t know why, though. It wasn’t that he liked people, or that he was even hospitable toward them most of the time, he lives alone in the woods for a reason, after all. But Dwight.. he was so timid and polite he struggles to imagine him having a malicious bone in his body.

"Thanks for letting me borrow them, I washed them and everything, so, uh, they're clean." Dwight's gaze flickers to Jake's briefly before turning back to the bags.

"Thanks." Dwight looks back up and sends him another smile. _His eyes look far less yellow today_ , Jake notices. He rests his back against the kitchen counter, momentarily forgetting about the fruit he had previously been cutting up to prepare for preservation.

He watches silently as Dwight continues pulling items from the bag- staples such as flour, salt, sugar and rice. He also digs out some seed packets for various vegetables and Jake smiles. His garden had a fair amount of crops but he doesn’t see it as a bad thing to plant some crops more resilient to the colder weather that would begin to settle in during the coming months. Jake watches with curiosity as Dwight continues to dig through the bag, that was everything he had asked for, after all. Then Dwight takes out a box of bandaids and dressings and Jake smiles again.

"I, um. I used up a lot of your medical supplies last time so I figured I should probably replace them... I hope everything else is what you needed, though." Dwight says, smiling up at Jake nervously, hand rubbing at his neck.

"Thanks, Dwight." Jake says, his voice is sincere.

"If there’s anything else I can do for you please let me know. I'm uh, happy to help." He smiles again and Jake nods.

"Will do." Jake pauses for a second, then a thought strikes him. "Hey, where'd you park?" He asks. Dwight's eyes meet his and the confusion written across his face is palpable.

"In the.. parking lot?" He answers in a question. Jake snickers, turning his back to Dwight and facing the counter, picking up the knife on the counter. He doesn’t look back at Dwight as he resumes cutting the fruit. 

"You coulda parked closer. Keep driving past the first carpark and there's more road. Follow it and turn left at the first turn and you'll end up on my driveway." He explains, not looking away from the fruit on the counter.

"Oh, um, noted, thanks." It's then that Jake realises how far Dwight must have carried all the supplies and it strikes him that Dwight is probably stronger than he looks. He starts to recognise just how much he doesn’t know about the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 Dwight b like "dumb wolf brain says you're boyfriend now"


	4. Progress and Productivity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwight Fairfield is gay send tweet

Jake's thoughts keep drifting as he sits on the edge of his porch. He dunks his pants into the bucket of soapy water before him, scrubbing the fabric together to get the dirt out. His mind keeps drifting back to his interaction with Dwight the other day, and Dwight himself, and he doesn't know how to feel about that. 

The other had spent some time here after dropping off the supplies, taking interest in what Jake was doing when he was preserving the fruit, and Jake was happy to explain the process to him. 

More specifically, Jake doesn't know how to feel about Dwight. He hasn't had a proper interaction with another human in so long, that he forgot how, sometimes, they could be kind, friendly and interesting. And Dwight was nothing short of any of those things, with particular emphasis on the 'interesting' aspect. He also couldn’t help but find the other rather charming in a sort of, apologises-too-much, dorky and nervous kind of way. 

Jake.. likes him, he decides. He enjoyed his company and he didn’t mind having him around at all. And that makes him feel weird. It feels so against everything he's ever told himself _about_ himself. He doesn't like people. They had expectations and standards and rules and Jake didn’t fit that mould very well, didn’t meet those standards. So he left them behind, the standards and the people. 

But that's the thing, something gives Jake the idea Dwight that didn’t quite fit the mould either, and he assumes that must be one of the reasons he feels drawn to him. 

The realisation that he may actually want to spend time getting to know someone sits very strangely with him. It feels like a chipped tooth, uncomfortable and out of place but he can't seen to draw his attention away from it. It makes him realise how distinctly lacking the presence of another person had been in his life, and how he can't remember the last time he had a proper conversation with someone up until about a week ago. His brow furrows slightly as he stands, ringing out his cargo pants of excess water and hanging them up to dry on the washing line. He sets back down and dunks the next item of clothing into the bucket of water. _He had a lot to think about._

When he finishes with the washing, Jake stands and steps back from his house, staring at it as he contemplates what it is he needs to do next. He knows he needs to inspect the solar panels and with summer having recently come to a close, the wetter weather would start to roll in. It would be best, he decides, if he dealt with the leaks he noticed in the roof last year before the rain got too heavy. Unfortunately he realises that it wouldn’t be particularly wise for him to climb onto the roof while on his own. He shudders at the thought, a memory from a few years ago surfaces, where he climbed up onto the roof on his own and ended up slipping off. He was thankful that he only ended up spraining his wrist, getting a minor concussion and winding himself, so he didn't need hospitalisation, but he still struggled that winter. He wasn't able to adequately prepare due to his wrist injury, which meant he ran short of food prematurely.

Nevertheless, the job needed to be done. Jake wasn’t sure how that would happen though. That is, until an idea crosses his mind. He walks back into the house and digs his phone out from the bedside drawer, noting how he should probably charge it again when he finishes using it, before just shoving it haphazardly back into the drawer. He opens the device and navigates to messages, the only contacts registered on his phone being his mum, brother and Dwight. He hesitates for a few moments before tapping on Dwight's contact.

\- 

Dwight is surprised when his phone buzzes from it's position on the table. He's off from work for the next 3 days, so he's not sure why it would be a message from work, but he isn't sure who else could have messaged him. He grabs the device and to his complete surprise the name across the screen reads 'Jake'. 

The message itself is another surprise; Jake wanted his help repairing his roof. Dwight doesn't understand why Jake is asking him, specifically. He wonders in this moment if Jake has anyone else to contact. His immediate mental response to Jake’s request is an affirmative. Jake is asking for his help, and if the previous thought turns out to be true, how could he refuse, especially when he still feels like he owes the man? But on the other hand, helping out Jake means he would spend more time with him, and not to mention he would have to return to the forest again.

He ultimately decides helping out Jake is more important to him, he can't help but still feel like he owes something to the man and, truth be told, Dwight really likes him. He know's that's just another reason he shouldn't return but... his selfish want to get to know Jake better and spend more time with the man outweighs all rational thought to _stay away_ and not grow any more attached. 

His chest starts to feel tight and heavy at that thought, so he distracts himself from it by typing out a reply, informing Jake of his availability over the next few days. 

Dwight keeps himself thoroughly distracted for most of the drive, singing to the music on the radio and preoccupying his thoughts with driving and paying attention to the road. It's only when the looming trees of the forest come into view that his body tenses up. It's the middle of the month, he knows he's here to help Jake, that the full moon was still a few weeks away. But rational thought doesn't hinder the dread that courses through his body like blood, nor the shiver that runs down his spine. It's an automatic response. He takes in a breath and his grip on the steering wheel momentarily tightens, loosening again with the following exhale. He is here to help out Jake. And while he knows he should stay as far away from Jake as possible, that no good would come from feeding the part of his brain that wanted to attach itself to the man, he can’t help the smile that graces his face at the thought of him. 

He takes Jake's advice this time and continues driving past the first carpark to discover the road does, in fact, keep going, becoming a dirt track. He drives down it and takes the first left, following that road for a few more minutes until he comes up to an old-looking, but well cared for, Jeep. He assumes it's Jake’s, as the car is quite fitting for the other and pulls up next to it, parking his own car. 

He steps out and looks around for a moment before spotting a path cutting between the trees and assumes it would take him to Jake's house if he follows it. Soon enough the house he's starting to familiarise himself with breaks through the trees and he's hit with the realisation that this is the first time in his life he's been to someone's house more than twice (aside from his own) since he was 13. The thought hits him a bit like a blow to the gut and he takes a moment to recover, pausing before shoving the thought aside and breaking through the trees. 

Jake steps out from behind the house and waves at Dwight, who waves back timidly, face feeling warm. The first thing he notices is Jake's facial hair. It had been pretty sparse, recently shaved, he assumes, when they first met a bit over a week ago. But now Jake almost had a full beard. He can't help but feel mildly jealous at how fast it grew, and also how good it looks. He can't grow facial hair for shit, and when he did it never looks as good as he hopes. _Isn't he supposed to be the werewolf here?_ he brushes the thought off, internally scoffing at the stupidity of his jealousy. Jake is wearing a long sleeve, dark grey T-shirt with the sleeves pulled up, his muscular chest somewhat visible under the relatively loose shirt. His jacket is tied around his waist. It's pretty cold out today so Dwight can only assume he's been up and at it for a while.

"Hey," Jake starts, wandering over to Dwight. "Thanks for, um, comin'. I really appreciate it." He says, pushing his hair off his forehead and running his hand through it. 

"Y-yeah of course, I'm happy to help out." Dwight smiles in reply, his face feels warm. _How did he manage to forget how attractive Jake is since the last time he came here?_ He shakes his head slightly to snap himself out of his daze, casting his gaze away from Jake and to the house instead.

"How're you?" Jake goes on to ask and Dwight forces himself to zone back in.

"Oh, um, I'm, uh, I'm good, thanks. And how about yourself?" He asks back.

"Doin' good. I organised the stuff I could for the roof already, so we're good to get started whenever." Jake explains, turning away slightly and vaguely gesturing to the wooden planks and corrugated steel he had evidently sourced in advance. "I'll go grab the tools, think you can grab the ladder from the side of the house?" Jake asks, indicating to the direction of where the ladder is presumably kept.

"Oh, yeah of course!" Dwight agrees, thankful for the distraction from both the forest and the very attractive man before him.

"S'heavy though, call out if you need help!"Jake says before turning off and walking to a little shed about 20 or so metres away. 

Dwight moves off too, walking toward the house to find the ladder. He gets distracted on his way by Jake’s garden. It's full of plants and he assumes it's probably Jake's main source of food. He can't help but stare at all the plants and produce he usually only sees on supermarket shelves. He hears Jake exit the toolshed and snaps out of it, continuing around the side of the house. The sound of a chicken catches him off guard and he whips his head around to see a coop and a pen with three of the birds wandering around in it. He's equally surprised by them and somehow not surprised in the slightest by the fact that that Jake would have chickens. More so he's just surprised (and thankful) he hasn't found the birds in one of his more... ritualistic visits to the forest.

Jake appears next to Dwight's side, causing the other to startle. "Gah! You're so quiet!" Dwight yelps, face growing warm in embarrassment. Jake sends him an apologetic, sheepish smile.

"Sorry," he says, scratching idly at his beard, "these're my chickens, Missy, Reina and Nugget." He introduces, pointing out the birds as he lists their names. Dwight snorts out a laugh, turning to Jake with a bemused smile.

"You named your chicken, Nugget?" He asks with a smile. Jake just shrugs in response but he can't stop the cheeky, self satisfied smile from creeping on his face.

"Need to feed em later, wanna help?" Jake asks, slightly tilting his head curiously at Dwight

"Oh, um, sure!" Dwight responds with another smile. 

"Ladder's just around there." Jake adds, turning and placing the tools he had in hand down before walking back to the toolshed. 

Dwight walks around the side of the house and instantly spots the ladder, grabbing it with one hand and picking it up with ease. As he's walking back around he notices Jake looking at him in a strange way and he suddenly remembers how Jake mentioned the ladder was heavy, awkwardly shuffling it around so that he was carrying it with two hands and making it look like it's a little harder for him to carry than it actually is. He knows he doesn’t look particularly strong, but the ladder isn’t particularly heavy at all to him, another supposed _"benefit"_ of being a werewolf. It would be more useful to him, he figures, if he was ever actually required to carry something heavy, but those moments are relatively few and far between. It makes moving easier, at least.

He puts the ladder down and Jake places the tools with the others he grabbed previously. "I need to get up there 'n check what needs fixing. Hold the ladder?" Jake asks, gazing up at the roof. Dwight nods and watches as Jake shifts the ladder over, climbing up the first few rungs. Dwight steps over and holds the ladder in place while Jake inspects the roof, sussing out what isn't watertight and needs to be fixed.

"Did you, um, build this house on your own?" Dwight asks, the question had been plaguing him for a while now.

"Yup. There wasn't a house when I came here." Jake explains.

"When did you move out here?" Dwight asks, Jake doesn’t reply for a long moment and Dwight worries he's overstepped a boundary with the question, opening his mouth to backtrack. Jake cuts him off with an answer before he has a chance to.

"I've lived here five years." Jake says, pausing for another moment to think. It becomes evident to Dwight that Jake doesn’t talk about himself much. "Left home 8 years ago."

"Can, I, um.. can I ask how old you are?" Dwight says hesitantly, he really doesn’t want to push his luck. 

"26, you?" Jake says, asking the question in turn. Dwight is surprised to learn he was older than the other. Jake seems so well put together and Dwight, well, he feels like he's just barely scraping along.

"I'm 28." Dwight replies, and Jake makes a surprised hum in response. Dwight knows he looks younger than he is, the only features on his face that really age him being how tired and stressed he knows he looks. Without the permanent bags under his eyes and worried crease in his brow he wonders how young he'd look.

"Can you grab me the hammer?" Jake asks after a moment, stepping up onto a higher rung of the ladder and breaking Dwight out of his thoughts.

"Sure, please don't fall off while I'm not holding the ladder?" Dwight says, carefully letting go of it. Jake laughs in response and Dwight smiles, face feeling warm. He steps over and grabs the hammer, handing it up to Jake before placing his hands back on the ladder. He watches as Jake hits the areas near a nail before using the back of the hammer to pull it out. 

"Grab that bucket over there and I'll drop the nails in." Jake says, indicating to a bucket off to the side. Dwight does so without hesitation, holding the bucket up to Jake's hand and listening as the nail hits the bottom of the bucket with a satisfying _thunk._ Jake moves to repeat the process with the next nail along. 

They continue like this for a while longer until there's only a few nails left holding the corrugated steel in place. "This'll come off in a sec. Can you grab onto it? Try not to cut yourself on it, the edge is sharp." Jake says, the concern in his voice evident. A smile graces Dwights lips at the concern. He places down the bucket before grabbing the metal. "You got it?" Jake asks.

"Yep!" Dwight is quick to reply. Jake takes out the last few nails and the sheet comes loose, some of it’s weight dropping into Dwight's hands. Jake eases his grip on it as Dwight takes the sheet in his arms, eventually letting go of it entirely when he sees Dwight has a good grip on it. Dwight manoeuvres the awkward sheet of metal around in his arms, taking it to where the other sheets are and placing it to the side. "How does it look?" Dwight asks, stepping back to the ladder and holding it sturdy once again.

"A few of the boards have rotted so they need to be replaced. Explains why it was causing me trouble." Jake says, Dwight tries to peer up to see what Jake's talking about but he's unable to see anything from his angle. Jake gets to work pulling off the rotten planks, dropping them down to Dwight. 

Jake continues pulling them off and dropping them down until all the water damaged beams are removed. "I'm hungry. Wanna have a lunch break now?" Jake calls out, twisting to look at Dwight. Dwight checks his watch and marvels at how it's somehow already quarter to one.

"Sure thing" he agrees, feeling his stomach rumble now that his attention has been brought to it.

They head inside and Jake gets them both a drink before swiftly preparing some sandwiches for lunch. He puts the two sandwiches on some plates and hands Dwight his, grabbing his own plate, cup and a jug of some kind of juice. Dwight follows Jake out onto the porch, who sets the jug down on a small table Dwight isn't sure if he's noticed before. There's only one chair by the table, which doesn't surprise Dwight too much considering Jake lives on his own, but he continues to stand there awkwardly nonetheless, unsure of what to do with himself. "Hang on a sec" Jake says, placing his plate and cup down before moving off to the side of the house. He comes back a few moments later carrying the chair Dwight recognises as the one he'd been working on the other day.

"Oh! Thank you. Did you finish it?" Dwight asks, looking up at Jake as he places it down for Dwight then sitting in his own chair.

"Not quite yet but it's functional." He answers, picking up his sandwich. "Wanna feed the chickens after this? Then we can put the roof back together." Dwight's face breaks into a poorly contained grin and Jake quickly diverts his gaze back to his lunch.

"I'd love that." Dwight smiles into his glass.

-

They stand in the chicken coop, the birds wandering around their feet and pecking at the food that is being scattered on the ground for them.

"Wanna hold one?" Jake asks after a moment, clipping the lid onto the bucket of feed.

"Oh, um, are you sure?" Dwight asks, he worries he'll frighten the bird, or accidentally hurt it.

"Yeah, they're friendly." He says, putting the food down and scooping up one of the chickens, smiling as it settles down into his arms comfortably. Dwight's face feels warm as he watches, he didn't realise Jake was capable of making such a fond expression. "Put out your arms." Jake instructs and Dwight hesitates.

"But she.. looks so comfortable I don't wanna disturb her." Dwight says, watching as the bird shuffles a little, settling into Jake's hold. Jake jokingly scoffs and laughs. "Alright." Dwight says, slowly reaching his arms out. Jake steps over and transfers the chicken into Dwight's arms, who startles and holds back a yelp as the bird flaps, but calms down when she situates herself into his arms, just as she had with Jake. A careful smile graces Dwight's lips as he holds the creature. She feels very warm and soft. He's never trusted himself with a pet of his own, the closest he's ever had being his parents' cat, many years ago.

"Which chicken was this again?" He asks, looking up to Jake curiously, Jakes gaze is flickering between Dwight and the chook with a small but warm smile on his face and Dwight immediately feels flustered, looking back at the chicken. 

"That's Nugget." Jake says, reaching over and gently petting the chook's head. Dwight smiles.

"Should I, uh, put her down and let her keep eating?" Dwight asks, looking up at Jake again.

Jake shrugs, "probably."

The rest of the afternoon is spent replacing the the rotted rafters and beams in the roof before the corrugated steel that protected them is replaced, this time making sure it doesn't have any rust damage or preexisting holes. They took one break for some water but otherwise worked pretty consistently. Soon enough the late afternoon sun was cutting it's way through the reddening trees.

"That sure is a roof." Dwight says as they stand back, admiring their combined handiwork.

"Sure is." Jake agrees.

"What are you gonna do with the rotten wood?" Dwight asks curiously, eyeing the fairly large pile of wood.

"Keep it for firewood, most likely. It's not really useful for much else." Dwight hums in interest.

"That sounds nice." He pauses, continuing after a moment, "Was there anything else you needed my help with?" Dwight asks, looking over to Jake.

"That's all I needed done today, couldn't do it on my own." Jake says, meeting his gaze. "Uh," Jake starts, intelligently, "thanks, for coming out here to help. I... really appreciate it." he finishes, pushing his hair off his face and running his hand through it before scratching at his beard.

"It's really not a problem, I'm happy to help. Plus I still owed you." Dwight says with a laugh, Jake shakes his head.

"No you didn't. If anything I owe _you_ now." Jake says in reply, sending Dwight a smile, the other smiles back.

"I.. should probably get going then, shouldn’t I?" Dwight says, casting his gaze to the autumnal forest, golden afternoon light bouncing off the colourful leaves. A shiver runs down his spine and his hand comes up to rub at his shoulder.

"Yeah, probably."

As Dwight drives home he feels the most fulfilled he has in a long time, he can't remember the last time a day had felt so productive. A voice in the back of his mind reminds him that continuing to grow fond of Jake could only end up being a terrible mistake which would end in nothing but disaster, but he can't find it in himself to acknowledge the thought at this moment. He feels... content, for the first time in what he knows to be a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh lmao this took forever but hey it's pretty long at least. And guess what? Because it took so long? You get a double update! The next chapter is really short comparatively but it is definitely important.


	5. Full Moon

Jake sits at his porch, a lamp flickering by his side as he looks up at the night sky, dotted with stars. The moon sits relatively low in the sky, round and full, casting dramatic, cool lighting onto the trees. A howl a little ways off cuts through the crisp air. Jake pulls his scarf tighter around his neck, shifting deeper into his Jacket and curling in on himself. His gaze turns to the dancing flame in the lantern, flickering back and fourth. It was later than he'd usually stay up, and he was feeling tired. He would turn in soon. 

He looks up through the trees, the moonlight illuminating the forest to a certain degree. His gaze skims back and forth until they catch onto a vague shape in the tree line. It turns it's head and a bright yellow pair of eyes lock with his own, staring him down. He stares back, unblinking. A wolf, presumably, but he can only make out the bright eyes of the creature and a very general shape. It looked kind of big, from what he could tell. There’s an uncanny chord of familiarity in the gaze, as if he's seen these eyes before. He remains silent and unmoving, unsure of how he would respond if the creature were to come any closer. Only a few moments later does it break it's gaze, turning away. He hears it running off through the trees and slowly lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, standing and picking up the lantern. 

He somehow felt unnerved by the encounter, and yet, unthreatened at the same time. He can’t quite place it but he feels as though those eyes had familiarity, as if he's met with them before. He dismisses the thought. It was just a wolf.

He brushes the uncomfortable feeling off, pushing his door open and stepping inside, locking the door behind him. Another howl calls out through the night air. _Just a wolf._

—

A breeze passes through the fall leaves, causing them to rattle and shake on their branches, a few dropping off and falling to the cold floor in a silent, solitary dance. The dry, haunting noise is carried throughout the eerie, moonlit forest on the wind, bouncing off the trees. The night is crisp and clear, the bright, full moon hanging overhead.

The creature pauses and sniffs, eyes scanning through the trees. He's following a trail but he's not sure of what. A small part of his brain is protesting, but it was _weak_ , and it was _loosing_. He gives the air another sniff and drops back down on all fours, weaving through the organic maze.

He runs through the dense trees with precision and ease, large paws padding against the ground but the noise he makes is minimal, save for the occasional crunch of leaves. He pauses for a moment and glances up at the sky. The moon catches his eye and he can't fight the urge that comes over him, pausing for a moment to stand on his hind legs and letting out a melancholy howl into the still night air. He sniffs again and adjusts himself in the direction of the scent of interest, dropping onto all fours and bounding off once more through the woods. He runs without distraction, something scampers off in a hurry to his left but he pays it no mind, despite the hunger clawing at his gut. 

He only runs for a few minutes more before his pace slows. He gives the air one final sniff before he lowers himself to be closer to the ground, placing his paws in carefully considered positions. A house begins to break through the treeline. He stops short of it, a layer of trees still standing between him and the building. His eyes skim it until his gaze lands on the light on the porch and finally, another pair of eyes, staring right back at him. _Jake._ A voice in the back of his mind informs him. They stare at each other, both gazes unblinking. _Shouldn’t be here,_ the voice cuts in. He knows it's right. He breaks the gaze first, blinking and twisting around, running off into the trees in the direction he had come from. His tail hangs low and his stomach rumbles.

\- 

Jake's mind is loud as he lies in bed, thoughts tumbling over one another and fighting to be at the forefront of the mess, keeping him from drifting off to sleep. He turns over in his bed, perhaps hoping the new position would jostle the thoughts into submission. Instead, it pushes one thought to the front. _Dwight._ The name breaks through, pushing aside and standing on top of the rubble that crowds his brain. _Those eyes belonged to Dwight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all are still enjoying this. Yea this chapter was pretty short but it's definitely crucial so I hope you still liked it.
> 
> The next chapter is gonna be, interesting. (I hope)


	6. Anniversaries and the memories that haunt them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just, straight up angst. Dwights memories of when he got turned into a werewolf and his first few transformations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some potentially triggering content in here such as blood, vomiting, self inflicted injuries and Dwight's dad being an (emotionally) abusive asshole, so please stay safe and feel free to skip this chapter if you don't feel comfortable reading it. It doesn't advance the overall plot in a major way but gives Dwight important character development/ background.

Dwight shifts in his chair as he checks his watch for the third time in the last five minutes. He knows he has a lot of work to do still but he can’t focus on it. He knows he shouldn’t have come into work today, but he already missed work this month due to the full moon. He can't afford to take another day off, despite the fact that he knows he won’t be too productive today.

He knows why, of course. Today marks the 11th anniversary of his own fresh flavour of hell. _Anniversary,_ he thinks, _the word seems too kind. As if it's something to be celebrated, rather than something he dreads._ He knows he should pay attention, or at the very least finish some of his work today, but he can't help but be swamped by bad memories and poorly repressed trauma from his shitty teenage years. He refrains from slamming his head down onto his desk, instead picking up his pen and clicking it a few times before checking his watch again. Lunch had to be soon, right? He considers trying to get some work done before lunch starts, but the memories are insistent and heavy in his chest, drowning out all other thoughts in his brain.

— 

Dwight is seventeen and tired. His six hour shift at Pizza!What is finally coming to an end and _oh how he's thankful_. He takes off the apron and hat, hanging them by the door. The burn on the back of his hand stings but he leaves it unaddressed, the ache in his heels from standing for so long taking up most of the residence in his mind. He isn’t looking forward to walking home, especially in the dark, but at least when he gets home his parents won't be there. He can stay up, maybe watch a movie. He knows he'll probably pass out on the couch as soon as he finishes eating but hey, a boy could dream.

Speaking of dinner, he grabs the pizza box shoved off to the side of the counter. He isn't sure he really wants to eat it after it's been all he could smell for the last few hours, the grease swamping his senses and coating his soul, but it's easier than making dinner, and it's free. He says goodnight to his coworker, an older lady, maybe in her thirties, named Mabel, who is pretty much the only coworker of his that is genuinely nice toward him. He waves a final goodbye to Mabel and steps out into the cold, stagnant night air. He regrets not bringing a jacket instantly. His house was only 20 odd minutes away by foot but it's twenty more minutes than he feels like spending in the cold. At least the moon is full and the sky is clear. It's a pretty night. He lowers his gaze and starts walking.

The walk is as uneventful as he expects it to be, he's a bit over halfway to home and the night feels just as stagnant as before. A car or two has driven past him but aside from that the streets are empty. It's eerie and Dwight can't help but feel uncomfortable as he walks.

As he continues walking he feels like something is watching him. He whips around, searching for something in the dark. His eyes meet with nothing and he shakes it off. _He's just being paranoid_ , he thinks. He bows his head and walks faster. 

As he continues walking he feels increasingly on edge. He thinks he hears another pair of footsteps behind him and his head whips back around almost fast enough to give him whiplash. The noise stops instantly. He scans the street again but can make out nothing under the widely spaced glow of the streetlamps. _It's probably just his own steps_ , he justifies. Despite this, he's almost running as he starts moving again, his heart is hammering in his chest and his breathing is shallow. He tries to take a deep breath to calm himself down. It's probably just a stray cat or a fox or something, nothing to be worried about. 

He hears the sound of something bounding up to him and whips around but before he can even react something knocks him to the ground, knocking all the wind from his lungs. He lets out a loud cry as his backside hits the floor hard. Something sharp sinks into his left shoulder. 

Whatever it is releases it's vice grip on his shoulders and steps back, bright yellow eyes meeting his own wide, petrified gaze. It moves and he flinches away, instinctively covering his face. He wonders if this is how he dies. The creature standing over him draws up to it's full height, absolutely towering over his cowering form. Bright yellow eyes meet with his own yet again and Dwight whimpers, his face feels wet with tears he didn't realise were present. 

Just as he expects it to lean down and finally claim its kill, it turns and runs off, gone in the blink of an eye. He flops back against the footpath, eyes wide and heart racing as his whole body deflates into a boneless puddle. _What the Fuck just happened._ His hand comes up to his shoulder and he immediately registers the pain as the adrenaline starts to dissipate. His hand comes back warm and damp. _Fuck._ He needs to get home, it's only a few minutes away. He sits up and his whole body aches, a quiet sob wracking his frame. His hand comes across his body, grabbing his shoulder and holding it in place, the amount of warm blood he can feel pooling under his fingers causing him much concern. He stands on shaky legs, stumbling for a moment before he starts walking home again. His pace quickens as paranoia and anxiety set back in, taking his mind off the pain as his eyes search the darkness for the slightest sign of movement.

He finally makes it home, digging his house key from his pocket, thankful it didn’t fall out. He unlocks the door, steps in and locks it behind him, flicking the light on. He b-lines for the bathroom. Now that he's home and out of the dark the hurt in his body truly starts to register. His shoulder aches and throbs with each accelerated thrum of his heart. His shirt, despite being red, is noticeably drenched in blood and he tenderly tries to lift it over his head, careful not to jostle his shoulder any further. As soon as the material is over his head the sharp metallic smell of blood hits his throat and causes him to retch. The bite looks gross and deep, oozing with blood and he retches again at the sight, curling over the toilet and throwing up acrid bile and water into the bowl. 

He sobs into the toilet, frightened and hurting. His whole body trembles, feeling like its on fire. He realises he should try clean the wound and stop the bleeding. He knows it's probably something he shouldn’t deal with himself but he doesn’t feel like he has much of a choice. If he calls an ambulance and goes to the hospital he wouldn’t die from this wound but his father would surely kill him. They can't afford medical bills like that, and he already thinks Dwight is a waste of space and resources. He's just going to have to deal with it as best he can by himself. Sure, he'll probably tell his mom if it gets infected, but if he can just hide it from her though, that would be best. 

He still doesn't even really know what attacked him. A wolf, he's inclined to think, but it was so... big. He hasn’t actually _seen_ a wolf before, but he doesn’t think they're that large normally. Not to mention it stood on two legs and absolutely towered over him. He doesn’t know why he isn't dead, why it didn't just kill him, god knows he wouldn't have been able to fight back in any way, he's an easy target. He feels his heartbeat pick back up and his breathing become shallow again so he decides not to think about it much more.

He begrudgingly sits up from the toilet, flushing it and turning back to the mirror. He digs out the medkit and lays it to the side. He almost gags again at the sight of the wound but he pushes through, turning on the sink and grabbing a hand towel, shoving it under the water.

He cleans off the blood and disinfects the wound before doing his best to wrap up and cover it. It's only after he finishes mopping up the blood from the sink and the floor and dealing with his blood soaked shirt that he realises he dropped the pizza box on the road when he was attacked. He's not too upset, he doesn't think he'd be able to keep any food down at the moment anyway.

He crawls under the covers of his bed not much later, curled up with the curtains pulled shut and the lamp on his bedside table still switched on. A combination of the throbbing pain from his shoulder and paranoia keep him awake for a long while until the exhaustion finally takes over.

Dwight wakes up feeling feverish and overwhelmed. His shoulder feels like it's on fire and that fire is spreading through his veins with each thrum of his heart. He's keenly aware of every point of contact with him and the blanket above and the overstimulation is driving him insane. His skin feels clammy and hot but every time he kicks off the blanket he starts shivering violently, experiencing severe chills. He wonders if this is what limbo feels like. He can see light streaming in through the gaps in his curtain and he grimaces, pulling the covers over his head. He wonders when his lamp got switched off but he's thankful for it.

His mom enters his room some time later, knocking on his door and peering in. 

'Dwight, sweetie, are you alright?" He peels the blanket back a little and grimaces at the influx of light. "I saw blood in the bathroom, did something happen?" 

"Oh, I.. got a blood nose yesterday." Dwight lies, his voice faint and gravelly.

"Are you feeling alright? You.. don't look very good, dear." Dwight shakes his head, grimacing again when his head throbs with the movement. "Do you wanna stay home?" She asks. 

Dwights reply is a feeble "yes". He had almost forgotten about school today.

"Alright honey, let me know if you need anything." His mother says, he nods and pulls the covers back over his head. He really appreciates his mother, she does her best. From his place under the covers he can hear his father talking bad about him, about how he's lazy and ungrateful and his marks wouldn't get any better if he spent the day in bed but honestly he struggles to muster the energy to care. It isn't like it's anything new to him. He rolls over in his bed and hopes he wakes up tomorrow.

—

Dwight does, in fact, wake up the next day. He's actually rather surprised to find that he pretty much feels as good as new. He thinks that’s kind of odd, but doesn’t want to complain, considering how terrible he felt yesterday. He comes home from school and locks himself in the bathroom, undressing the wound on his shoulder for the first time since he wrapped it, seeing as he scarcely got out of bed yesterday. The wound is, surprisingly, almost entirely closed up, save for a few scabs here and there. He decides he doesn't like looking at it though, so he covers it back up. He still hasn't told his mom about the events of the other night and ideally he would keep it that way. Something tells him bottling up such a terrifying experience would come back to bite him- _he almost laughs at the pun_ \- but his teenage brain hasn't developed a better coping mechanism yet so it's the one he sticks with. 

In the following weeks he almost forgets about the event, the memory being pretty well repressed. That being said, he tries to avoid being rostered for the late shifts at Pizza!What unless his mother could pick him up. There's no way he's walking home in the dark again. 

A month has passed since the incident, not that Dwight is aware. He sits in the kitchen with his mom, they had finished cleaning up after dinner a little while ago. His dad isn't home. He's felt off all day but nothing too noticeable, nothing worth mentioning, but at the moment it feels worse. There's a strange ache in his bones and a voice in the back of his mind telling him to go somewhere. He turns to his mom. _Something is wrong._ "I... I need to leave."

"What's wrong sweetheart?" She asks, turning to her son with a worried look. Dwight is unusually pale and his skin looks clammy but his eyes are shockingly bright with a yellowish hue.

"I don't know but I need to leave." He says, leg bouncing. His body is full of angst and unspent energy. He can't wait for an answer. "I have to get out. I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening to me." He says, tears are pooling in his eyes. With that he steps out of the front door and starts walking at a brisk pace, he isn't wearing any shoes. He hears his mom call after him but he ignores her, pushing forward.

The forest. There was a forest about fifteen minutes away from his house. He doesn’t know why but that's where he needs to go. His pace quickens. He's running. It's more, and faster than he can remember running in his whole life. He keeps running. The bite mark on his shoulder throbs with the frantic rhythm of his heart. 

There's a searing pain filling his whole body. It feels like he's on fire, like growing pains multiplied by a thousand. Tears stream down his face but he continues to run. He's nearly there now. A joint in his knee makes a loud pop and he cries out. The other follows suit. Everything hurts. He's blinded by the pain and it's all he can manage to drag enough oxygen into his system. He continues to run through the trees for a few moments longer, his feet falling heavy against the dirt. 

He comes to a stop and hits the floor. His hands and knees make harsh contact with the cold, hard ground and he immediately vomits, a godawful combination of dinner and stomach acid lining the inside of his mouth and throat, causing him to retch more. hot tears stream from his eyes as he sobs and heaves, falling to his side and crawling into fetal position. An immense pain that feels as though it's tearing apart every part of his body courses through him, feeling like a raging, uncontrollable fire. He silently begs for his life but every part of him feels as though it is dying. His last conscious thought is a plea for survival before he blacks out, hitting the forest floor with a hard _thunk_.

He wakes up a nondescript amount of time later, disoriented and confused. He looks around, he's surrounded by tall forests. It's surprisingly bright out but when he looks up to the sky he's met with the full moon. An urge fills him at the sight but he's not sure what. He sniffs the air and is overwhelmed by the sensory overload that hits him. He's never felt more perplexed.

Dwight feels frightened. He... how did he get here? He sits up, his body feeling sore. As he stands he wobbles and topples back over, landing on his hands. Its then that he looks down. _What the fuck_. It's the only thought that crosses his mind as he looks down and is met with a body that isn't his. He drops back to the floor, feeling terrified and overwhelmed. This... this _had_ to be a bad dream, he gave himself a concussion when he passed out and was hallucinating, there was no way this could be real. He's thankful to still be wearing his sweatpants but they feel tight and stretched, his shirt is barely clinging on, damaged and ripped in multiple places. His whole body is covered in a thick layer of fur. His hands and feet more closely resemble paws. He tries to stand again, resting against a tree with shaky legs. He's standing on his feet differently, and he feels much taller.

Suddenly the realisation hits him. He'd been bitten by a werewolf. It.. It made sense, but at the same time it didn't make any sense at all. He didn't know what had attacked him and he honestly didn't want to think about it. It happened so quickly, and truth be told he basically blanked out the memories, but in the glimpses he could recall he remembers it being vaguely wolfish, save for it's gigantic stature. But... werewolves weren't real! They were creatures of myth not... not _him_! He looks back down at himself and whines, the noise catching him off guard. His hands ( _paws?_ ) come up to his face and, not expecting them to make contact with his face where they did, he ends up scratching himself, cutting a long line down his face. He whimpers as the deep cut stings, not expecting his hands to be so sharp. He can feel the warm blood on his face and he can smell it _very_ strongly.

With much more apprehension, he raises his hands back up. The first thing he notices, is the distinct lack of glasses on his face. He starts to panic and looks around before spotting them, breathing out a huff of relief. He picks them up as carefully as he can and debates where to put them, finding them too small to fit on his head without the fear of damaging them. They look small in his... paw. He decides to place them in a hollow in a tree for safekeeping. 

The cut on his nose stings, he feels frightened and perplexed, still struggling to believe any of this is real. It must be a bad dream. He drops to the ground and curls into a ball at the base of the tree, trying his best to drown out all the overwhelming sounds of creatures moving about in the night and the wind moving the leaves in the trees. Maybe he would wake up in his bed, like nothing happened, and this was just a really fucked up dream. He hopes that's the case.

Dwight's hope is shattered when he wakes up to an intense pain coursing through his body, very similar to before, except this time everything felt tight and coiled, his bones felt like they were going to snap and his muscles feel stiff and rigid. He feels like he can't breath and it's not long until he passes out again from the pain. 

He wakes up yet again to the sound of birds and sunlight filtering though his eyelids, he's lying face up on the forest floor. The sticks and rocks dig into his back. His mind is reeling as he tries to comprehend what he had just experienced. He didn't wake up in his bed, his whole body feels sore, his clothes feel tattered and ruined but he doesn’t have the energy to actually check them, and his face feels uncomfortable and kind of itchy. His hand comes up to investigate and he realises it's caked with dried blood. His glasses are also absent from the bridge of his nose. He traces the long cut across his face he vaguely remembers giving himself. So that really happened. It wasn’t just a bad dream. He rolls onto his side and curls in on himself, letting out a heartbroken sob. He doesn’t know what to do.

He looks up to the blurry sky and sees that it's still pretty early, the sun having peeked over the horizon maybe 30 minutes ago at most. He figures he should try and get home before it gets too late but he doesn't want to move. What would he say when he gets there? What does he tell his mother? How does he walk home in these clothes? It's more questions than Dwight knows how to answer, his heart feels heavy in his chest and his stomach growls with hunger. He lies on the cold ground for a few minutes longer before finally standing up, feeling around in the tree for his glasses. He finds them and slips them on. He cringes as he spits on his hand and uses it to rub the dried blood he can feel off his face. Head down and arms crossed he shamefully begins the walk back home.

He tries to slip into his house as quietly as possible, but his mother is sitting in the kitchen, looking as though she didn't catch a wink of sleep that whole night. Dwight doesn’t blame her. She immediately stands when she hears him enter and pulls him into her arms, letting out a sob. He feels his own eyes fill with tears which are soon sliding down his face. His mother pulls back and grabs his face, eyes filled with worry. Dwight can't meet her gaze. "What happened to your face, where were you?!" She sounds so distressed and Dwight's heart breaks. He's already such a disappointment of a son, she deserves better than this. He finally breaks down, heaving sobs wracking his frame. His shoulders shake and he can scarcely breathe, falling against his mother as his cries grow more distraught. She wraps her arms back around him, holding him as he falls to pieces, a full month of silent suffering soaking into her shoulder.

The next transformation is even harder.

He feels it in his body sooner this time, able to recognise what the aches mean. He hesitantly approaches his mother.

"I'm..." he takes a breath, wiping the building moisture from under his eyes. "I'm going to have to leave again tonight." He looks away, scratching absently at the back of his wrist. 

"What? Why?!" His mom asks, sounding baffled and concerned.

"It's going to happen again, like last month." He says, voice tiny. A tear slips down his face and he angrily scrubs it away.

"What happened last month, Dwight? I can't help you if you don't tell me what's happening with you!" She sounds so distressed.

"I.. I don't.." Dwight's chest clenches, "I don't know how to explain." He feels so small, voice wavering as he speaks.

"Try" She says, voice desperate.

"You won't believe me!" Dwight sobs back, crumbling. His mother looks at him confused, her brow furrowing. He tugs the collar of his shirt across his shoulder, revealing the silvery scar of the bite mark. "I got attacked by something a few months ago and I... I..." he drops his hand, a sob wracking his frame. His mothers eyebrows knit together further as she pushes the shirt back across his chest, touching her fingers lightly to the scar. A shiver wracks down his spine at the contact.

"What bit you." She asks, tone of voice unreadable.

"A _big fucking wolf_." 

He turns and leaves while his mom stands, puzzled in the kitchen. She tries to go after him but he can't face her, running faster when she calls out his name.

Dwight makes it to the forest and the process is basically the same as last time, feeling an unbearable searing pain before he passes out, except this time he took off his shirt and glasses before. He regains consciousness on the forest floor, the glow of the full moon illuminating the trees. The only feelings he registers are distress, frustration and anger, he remembers feeling them before but they feel.. amplified. He feels angry. At the world, at himself. He growls and scratches at the fur covering his body, underestimating the sharpness of his claws as they dig into the skin beneath, matting the fur with blood. He scratches at the nearest tree, leaving a long scrape before dropping to all fours and running off, filled with unspent energy derived from anger and unrest.

He wakes again feeling sore, tired and littered with cuts on his arms and chest that he immediately regrets. The scar that sliced his face in half was bad enough, it's not like he needed to add to the collection of bad memories that dressed his skin, but there they were. As he tightens the string of his overstretched sweat pants and puts on his teeshirt and glasses, he wonders if he'll be doomed to spend the rest of his life like this. He's mildly thankful he had the forethought to take his shirt and glasses off this time, at least. 

He wishes he brought a Jacket, it's cold and his arms are covered in cuts. He knows his mom will be worried. His dad would probably make an insensitive comment about how it looks like he finally decided to try and rid the world of himself or something of that vein. He can almost hear the words muttered under his breath about how _'it's a shame he didn't succeed'_. At least his dad hadn't been around much in the last few months. 

His mom is starting to worry about that, he sees it in her eyes as she slowly comes to realise that their relationship had been disintegrating for years. He noticed ages ago but she couldn’t see it, she clung on to a failing marriage because she believed he still loved her. Dwight can't help but blame himself for the collapse of the marriage. Perhaps if he was a better son, if he got good grades, showed interest in cars and sport and _girls_ his dad would stick around more. Treat his mother nicer. She deserved that. He doesn't really care about how his dad treats him, though. Dwight is used to it. A life of being treated like shit by everyone around you save for your mother does something to a person's resilience. His dad still didn't know about his... _affliction_ , and he had no plans of ever telling him. Something gives Dwight the impression that would be the safest option for him.

His eighteenth birthday comes and goes. His mother gives him an expensive looking black watch he knows she spent more money on than they could afford and he wears it every day, save for a full moon. She continues to support him and he continues to love her. He doesn't know how she can still love him given the monster he is but he's endlessly thankful and guilty. He doesn't deserve that love.

He's not sure when the last time he saw his dad was. His mom is starting to struggle, he brought home most of the income firstly, but the thought that she's been abandoned weighs heavy on her mind. He gives her as much of his pay checks from Pizza!What as he can but she insists he saves the money for himself, only letting him give her so much. 

He finishes school a few months later with a barely passing score but honestly he doesn’t care. School had fallen to the back of his mind given more prominent, wolf related issues in his life. He saves up money and moves out of town. His mother deserves a better life than spending her time and resources looking after him. The weight he carries is his to bear alone. He continues sending her part of his pay check from his new job every week until he starts falling behind on his rent, his fridge empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I.. hope this chapter was still an enjoyable read and we'll be back to regularly scheduled dwake bonding in the next one I promise


	7. Links

Jakes mind wanders as he lifts the axe above his head, swinging it down into the log with splitting force. He's focusing on the task at hand, sure, paying enough attention that he doesn’t send the axe flying into his leg, but his thoughts are elsewhere, namely on Dwight. He hasn't stopped thinking about him since the other night. He feels like his over exhausted mind must have jumped to conclusions, it was late, far later than he'd usually stay up. He could have just been seeing things. And even if he wasn't seeing things, he can't be sure those were Dwight's eyes. It had to have been a wolf. There's no other explanation.

But the uncanny familiarity in the gaze stuck with him. 

So lets say those eyes did belong to Dwight and not just a wolf. Wouldn’t that mean Dwight _was_ the wolf? Werewolves were fun to believe in when he was a kid, sure, he even remembers dressing up as one for halloween when he was allowed to enjoy the occasion. It's a fun fantasy, but it's just that. There isn't much proof to suggest they're real.

That being said, Jake doesn't think it's _impossible_ for them to exist. They're so prolific in so many cultures and myths that they had to originate from somewhere, right? It would connect a few previously unexplained dots about Dwight, too. The scars on his skin, his uncanny strength when wielding the ladder that Jake himself struggles with on occasion, and Jake is by no means weak, _his eyes_. The two previous occasions where they spent time together after the first meeting his eyes were a warm, light brown but in their first encounter they were yellow to an unnatural degree, and _very_ similar to the eyes he met with the other night.

The stare had a knowing glint to it, it radiated familiarity and he can't conceive any other reason for that than it belonged to Dwight.

Plus, in all his deliberations he is still skimming over the actual circumstance in which they met to begin with. He doesn’t remember if there was a full moon that night but to find anyone lying on the forest floor covered in blood and cuts isn't a usual occurrence, and it ties in well with the narrative he's spinning for himself. Jake knows there were holes in Dwights excuses but he felt it would be rude to call him out on it, obviously the guy was uncomfortable. Plus they had just met, Dwight wasn't obligated to tell Jake anything.

But despite how the well the possibility of Dwight being a werewolf connects some of the mysteries surrounding him together, it doesn't pair too well with Dwight himself, not that Jake can claim he knows the guy to a very personal degree. Still, he seems so timid and unassuming, so gentle. He was hesitant to hold Jake's chickens, after all. But hey, there's nothing in his (arguably limited) knowledge of werewolves that said they couldn't be timid or gentle. Jake recognises in his musings that he's glossing over the fact that the existence of werewolves in general is still marked with a giant question mark in his mind.

So he has his suspicions, he supposes. Bringing it up with the other doesn't feel like the correct approach to Jake, something tells him he'd either sound like a madman and risk scaring Dwight off for suggesting such a ridiculous thing, or in the circumstance that he is somehow right (and werewolves do exist), talking to Dwight about it will probably cause the other to flee, considering how reserved and flighty he seems at the best of times. He figures if Dwight has anything to tell him, he would if he feels comfortable to do so.

Jake buries the axe in the large, sturdy log he's been chopping all the other logs on and gathers some of the now split wood into his arms, walking back to his house and placing the wood in a neat stack by the door under the porch, walking back to the splitting log to gather more. His musing had come to a tidy end in his mind but he still feels uneasy, like something is sitting unresolved. 

_...Why is he so concerned about the possibility of Dwight no longer talking to him? None of his previous relationships with anyone in his life had mattered this much to him._ He was never close to anyone during school. Sure there were people there who liked him and wanted to hang out with him, but he was never that interested. He knew they were just interested in him because his father was rich. On the topic of his father, it wasn't like he'd let Jake go and hang out with his "friends" anyway, only ever wanting him to stay home and study because his grades weren't up to scratch. 

His relationship with his father is one he was more than happy to leave behind. His relationship with his mother was better, but not by a whole lot. She turned a blind eye to how he was treated as a kid, favouring his brother for being a responsible, upstanding student and proudly following in his father's footsteps. She actually made an effort to rectify her mistakes after he left though, to an extent. Perhaps when he confronted them about how he felt and finally broke away, he broke the rose coloured lenses she seemed to wear in the process. His brother... well it wasn't his fault he got treated better. Regardless, there was a crack within their relationship that Jake doubted they could ever fully fix. But he was ok with that. He doesn't miss them and he doesn’t regret leaving them behind. His life is better without them.

So why does he care if he never sees Dwight again? He doesn't know, exactly, but.. He knows he doesn’t want to push him away. He doesn't want to think about the specifics of it much more, it's not a can of worms he's willing to open right now. He gathers the last bits of wood from around the splitting log, carrying them inside to the fireplace. He stacks a few onto some kindling in the fireplace and sets the stack alight, watching for a moment as the flame dances around the wood before catching on. He sits and watches the fire grow for a while until he's sure it'll stay lit, stepping back outside into the cool air. 

He looks around his yard, contemplating what he needs to do. He wants to build the chickens something for the on-coming winter so that they could still run around and stay warm, he remembers hearing about how some people essentially make greenhouses for the birds in winter and the idea strikes him as a good one. He hopes that it could provide him with the option to grow some of the more hardy and weather resistant crops during the cold too. He'd probably have to go into town and buy some materials for it. He wonders if Dwight would be interested in helping him. He smiles at the thought.

—

As he stares at the materials he went into town to purchase earlier that day Jake knows for a fact he'd be able to set up the greenhouse for the chickens on his own, he did build himself a whole house after all, but he also knows it'll be quicker with another persons help. With the weather cooling, he figures its best he has it up as soon as possible. Efficiency aside, admittedly he's searching for an excuse to spend more time with Dwight. Firstly, he has ... _thoughts_ to settle, and truth be told, he mostly just enjoys the man's company.

Through shaky communications they successfully organise for Dwight to come over under the pretence of helping him to set up the winter coop. Jake wonders if they'll make it to a point in their newfound... friendship, he supposes, where Dwight would come over without the necessity of some kind of predetermined chore or task. That'd be.. well honestly even someone coming over to help him out is the most stable relationship with another human he's experienced in a long time, he realises.

The rest of Jake's day is spent in anticipation for tomorrow. He tries to focus on the jobs he needs to do and he even tidies up his house. He gives the floor a sweep for the first time in a fair while, picking up the stuff from it that's been sitting there for nearly a week now. He keeps himself preoccupied, even going so far as to shave his beard, but his thoughts keep meandering from topic to topic, periodically landing back on Dwight. He's... excited to see the other again. It catches him completely off guard, how out of character the response is. He hopes maybe spending more time with him will ease the unfamiliar feelings he gets around the other.

He sits on the edge of his porch, plate in hand, and watches as his crow friend glides down from the trees, landing and hopping up to Jake. He smiles down at the company, running his fingers over the soft feathers of the birds chest. He picks up his sandwich from the plate, taking a bite before ripping off a bit and throwing it to the crow. The bird happily hops over to peck at it. He sits back and watches the bird eat, a strange feeling washing over him. His only friends had been a crow and his pet chickens for a few years now and it's kind of sad, when he thinks about it. He's grown used to an empty house, to being on his own. He never stopped to consider how lonely it could be. 

—

Jake perks up when he hears the car driving through the forest before coming to a stop, the sound of a car door slamming echoing throughout the trees. He places down the tools in his hand and wanders over to meet Dwight, who greets him with a warm smile he can't help but return. 

Jake asks if Dwight wants anything to eat or drink but he declines and they head over to the chicken coop. Dwight laughs as he chucks the feed to the ground, watching Jake chase the birds around the coop with a smile. Eventually he drops the game and picks one of the birds up with ease, wandering over to Dwight. Dwight snaps the lid onto the feed bucket, putting it down before turning to Jake and the bird, a warm grin on his face. 

"Which chicken is this?" He asks, running his fingers across the birds feathers. "I remember nugget is that one" he says, pointing to the slightly darker coloured chicken of the three, which was currently pecking at the ground near his feet. 

"This one's Reina. Wanna hold her?" Jake asks but Dwight shakes his head, simply continuing to pet the bird. Dwight retracts his hand and Jake lets go of the chicken, letting her flap to the ground and peck at the seeds. Dwight continues to watch the birds eat as Jake steps around to the side of the coop, grabbing an empty egg carton and placing the eggs from the nesting box into it. When Jake steps back around he sees Dwight crouched, tentatively petting one of the birds. He stands back up as Jake approaches, rubbing his shoulder with a slightly embarrassed smile, Jake can't help but think it's really cute. He hands Dwight the egg carton, who looks at him confused, opening the box curiously. "You can have 'em. I've got more than enough for one guy." Jake explains. "I'll put em in my fridge. And hey," he smiles, "if you bring an empty carton next time I'll give ya some more."

"That's really cool, thank you." Dwight says with a warm, thankful smile, Jake just shrugs and smiles back. Jake takes the carton back off him and heads off to put them in the fridge, leaving Dwight with the chickens. Dwight jumps when Jake appears back at his side and he apologises with a sheepish laugh for startling the man before suggesting they start putting together the greenhouse. 

Minus a lunch break, a brief visit from the crow and one minor hiccup where Dwight slipped and effectively coated his pants in mud, they spend the rest of the day working on putting up the structure over the existing coop. The two work very efficiently together, and by the end of the day the greenhouse is pretty much finished. Jake steps back from their work and smiles, happy that he'll be able to keep his chickens warm through the snowy season. He's also happy that there looks to be enough space inside the structure that, should it work well, he'll be able to section off part of it and put in a garden bed to continue growing throughout the winter. Dwight wanders up to Jakes side, looking over their hard work while idly brushing some of the drying dirt off his pants. 

"It's getting kind of late. Do you.. want to stay for dinner?" Jake asks hesitantly, looking over to Dwight. The other stares back at him blankly for a moment before blinking, processing what Jake had said.

"Oh, um, are you sure?" He asks, fiddling absently with the bracelets around his wrist. Jake nods and offers the other a sincere smile. Dwight smiles back instinctively and Jakes breath catches in his throat. He looks away. 

"Yeah. Do you uh.. have work tomorrow?" Jake asks, looking at the chickens and avoiding Dwight's questioning gaze.

"No, not until Wednesday, why?" Dwight asks. Jake can feel his eyes boring holes into the side of his head.

"Just curious." Jake says, turning and walking back to the house. "C'mon, let’s go make some dinner."

—

"Oh wow, it got dark quick, didn’t it?" Dwight says, staring out the window. He seems caught up in thought when Jake looks over at him, his eyes unfocused as he stares into the darkening forest. 

"Do you.. wanna stay?" Jake asks hesitantly. Dwight blinks a couple times before turning away from the window, looking at Jake with a blank, but less dazed expression. Jake figures it's best to repeat himself. "Do you want to, stay here tonight? It's a fair drive and uh, it's dark..." He half mumbles. He feels so awkward, if Dwight didn't hear what he said this time he doesn’t know if he'd be able to repeat it. No one else has ever slept in his house before (while he's been in it, at least). Dwight blinks at him again and Jake diverts his gaze. "If you don't want to that's fine." Jake wishes something would swoop down and knock him out. He's doing a great job at keeping his face neutral but internally his mind is screaming at him.

Dwight blinks, face turning red when he registers what Jake asked. "Oh, are you sure? I don't mind driving and I don't want to be a nuisance or anything, it's ok!" Dwight starts, speaking very quickly.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to, but you're definitely not a nuisance if you do, Dwight. I like having you around." Jake says. He eyes Dwight carefully and watches as his expression falls blank, face growing warmer. He feels his lips quirk up the slightest bit in an involuntary smile. Dwight blinks again, wiping his eyes a bit. Jake quirks his eyebrow slightly but otherwise says nothing.

"Oh." Dwight's voice is quiet. Jake watches him carefully, confused at the response. _Has... no one ever told him they enjoy his company before?_. Jake frowns at the thought before quickly returning to a neutral expression. "Where would I sleep? I.. I don't mind sleeping on the couch again." Dwight says, his voice still quiet and uncertain. 

"You can share the bed with me, it's big enough." Jake says. Dwight's face gets darker still.

"A-are you sure? I don't mind sleeping on the couch!" Dwight is quick to argue, he can barely maintain eye contact with Jake. 

"Yeah, Dwight, I'm sure. You'll be uncomfortable on the couch." Jake says, standing up. "You wanna shower? I'll get you some clothes to sleep in." 

"Yeah, ok." Dwight finally agrees, standing up. He fidgets with his hands briefly before lifting his left hand to rub at his neck and shoulder nervously.

"You can borrow some for tomorrow too, yours are all muddy." He says and Dwight shakes his head.

"Don't worry about it, I've got a spare change of clothes in the car. I'll, uh, go grab 'em." He says, stepping backward toward the door. That strikes Jake as slightly unusual but he doesn’t question it, simply nodding and stepping off to grab a towel and an old, soft teeshirt and some spare pyjama pants for Dwight to sleep in.

Dwight comes back inside, clothes in hand, and Jake hands him the towel, shirt and pants. Dwight nods in thanks and heads to the bathroom. He hears the water turn on a short while later, but it's turned off pretty quick. He smiles internally, Dwight seems to have remembered the hot water supply was pretty minimal. The other steps out not long after, dressed in the clothes Jake had given him. He looks so comfortable in the soft pants and loose t-shirt. Jake smiles slightly before standing up, collecting his clothes and heading in after the other. 

Dwight is sitting in front of the fireplace when he exits the shower, prodding at the flames with a poker. Jake wanders over and drops another log on the fire. Dwight looks over to him briefly before turning back to stare at the flames. "You want something to drink? I can make you a decaf tea?" Jake says, flicking on the kettle. 

"That'd be nice, yeah." Dwight says, looking to Jake briefly before prodding the fire again, watching the embers fly off it.

"Want something in it?" Jake asks, Dwight nods and quietly tells him he'd like a teaspoon of sugar. Jake dutifully prepares the teas once the kettle boils and brings them over to Dwight, handing him his and setting down next to him in front of the fire.

The two sit and talk for a little while before falling into a comfortable silence, enjoying the warmth of the dancing flames. Jake stands, taking their long since emptied mugs to the sink.

"I'm goin' to bed, wanna come or you gonna stay here longer?" Jake says, Dwight shakes his head and stands up as well.

"I'll come. I'm really tired." He says. Jake nods and wanders off to the bedroom, Dwight follows behind. He pulls his curtains shut and slips under the blanket. Faintly Illuminated by the orange glow from the fire in the other room, he watches Dwight slide off his glasses and sit them on the bedside table, hesitating for a moment before Joining Jake under the covers. Jake turns to the window.

"G'night, Dwight."

"Goodnight, Jake."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ey yo I'm suck I know,, the next update'll probably take just as long cause I have exams in the next few weeks so :) but uh yeah I hope you enjoyed


	8. Revelations and Grievances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jake park is gay send tweet

The warm, soft morning light is flooding into the room when Jake's eyes open. It looks later than he'd usually wake up, judging by how much light is filtering into the room through the relatively sheer curtains. His gaze lands on Dwight's still peacefully sleeping face as he opens his eyes. For the first time since Jake met him, he actually looks at rest. The crease in his brow Jake had started to think was a permanent feature of his face had evened out and the tired bags under his eyes, visible even under his thick glasses, had faded with sleep. His face looks quite different without the glasses but it's not the first time Jake has seen him without them on so he's not really surprised by that at all. The cute freckles brushed across his face look slightly more prominent given the time they spent outside yesterday. His eyes then naturally follow the long silvery scar down Dwight's face and he finds himself once again wondering about it's origin. He wonders what Dwight thinks of it. He's hit with the sudden impulse to trace his fingers over it so he rolls onto his back, turning away from the other. He feels a little overwhelmed by the thought. 

He casts a brief gaze back over at Dwight, noting how cute he looks while peacefully sleeping, before sitting up and shaking his head to rid himself of the thought. He feels a slightly uncomfortable, but mostly unfamiliar nervousness filling his stomach as he thinks about him so he stands up from the bed, leaving Dwight to sleep. He hesitates as he holds out his clothes, glancing back to Dwight, still asleep in the bed, before ultimately deciding to pick them up and head to the bathroom. He splashes his face with water in order to snap out of whatever it is he's feeling before getting dressed.

Afterwards he heads to the kitchen and puts on the water to boil, grabbing a mug for himself and Dwight. He prepares the teas, adding a teaspoon of sugar to Dwight's. He takes a sip of his own before picking up the other tea, carrying it to the bedroom. Dwight blinks blearily up at him when he enters and Jake walks over to place the mug on the nightstand next to the other's glasses. 

"Mornin'." He says, Dwight sits up and slides on his glasses before sending Jake a nervous smile. Jake's face feels warm so he quickly diverts his gaze. 

"Good morning! Um, thank you for th-..the tea!" Dwight says and Jake shrugs in response, watching Dwight carefully pick up the hot mug and take a sip.

"No problem." he says with a fleeting, careful smile, backing out of the room and feeling rather awkward. He leaves Dwight to get changed in peace.

Dwight exits the bedroom a little while later, dressed in his spare change of clothes and carrying his half empty mug.

"Should probably put on your other jeans, we'll be in the garden again today." Jake says, glancing at Dwight briefly before turning his gaze back to the loaf of bread.

"Oh, yeah, sure thing." Dwight says, placing his mug down and heading back to the bedroom to change. Jake hesitates while staring at the cut slices of bread. He doesn’t just want to make toast for breakfast, deciding to put more effort in for his guest than he'd usually put in if it was just himself. He takes out the butter from the fridge and grabs the sugar, placing them onto the stove to melt, chopping up some fruit while the pan warms. After the butter and sugar are homogenous and have produced something vaguely resembling caramel, he drops the bread into the pan. Dwight exits the bedroom once more, picking up his mug and sidling up to Jake, their arms brushing momentarily before Dwight steps back a little. "Can I help at all?" He asks.

"Wanna flip the toast?" Jake asks, holding out the spatula to Dwight.

"Sure thing. Thanks" Dwight takes the spatula from his hand and flips the bread, moving it around in the pan to coat the other side. Dwight gives the pan a shake and lets them sit for a little while before flipping them back over. Jake takes down two plates for them and Dwight dutifully dishes the toast onto them once they are perfectly golden. Jake places the fresh, chopped fruit and some raspberries onto the plates before handing Dwight his, who looks at it with poorly contained enthusiasm, his mouth watering. "Do you normally eat like this in the mornings?" Dwight asks, taking his plate and sitting down at the table. Jake shakes his head.

"Nah." The fact that he didn't want to just make toast for the two of them going unspoken. "Special occasion." Dwight looks at Jake curiously as he sits down opposite to him at the table. He slides Dwight some cutlery, in case he doesn’t want to eat with his hands. 

"What occasion?" Dwight asks, confused. Jake isn't sure how to answer the question without it sounding lame so he simply diverts his gaze to his plate, hoping the warmth on his face isn't visible. He can't stop himself from glancing back up at Dwight briefly, catching the look of understanding that crosses the other's face. "Oh." Jake watches from the corner of his eye as Dwight answers his own question, face obtaining a faint warmth. The two both divert their gaze downward, suddenly very interested in the plates of food before them. A peaceful silence falls between the pair as they eat.

"...That was the most restful sleep I've gotten in a long time." Dwight muses after a while, picking up a piece of fruit from his plate. Jake hums in acknowledgement before pushing himself up into a standing position, taking his plate to the sink. Dwight does the same after he finishes his last few pieces of fruit.

—

They spend the rest of the morning in the newly built greenhouse, working around the chickens to section off part of it for a garden, with only some minor interruptions from the birds themselves. 

Jake stands and watches for a moment as Dwight fills the planter boxes with soil before heading to his house to collect his seed packets and the punnets with starts he planted a little over two weeks ago. He returns and kneels down next to the newly built planter boxes and Dwight drops down next to him, looking over the little baby plants with a charmed smile on his face. 

"These aren't so weather resistant, so they should do well in here" Jake says, looking over the little sprouts. "We need to dig out shallow trenches for the seeds," he explains, holding up the packets, "and holes for these ones." He holds up a punnet with the sprouts. Dwight perks up at the instructions, eager to help. Jake hands him a punnet and indicates to where and he wants them planted, grabbing his own punnet to demonstrate how. Dwight watches with interest as Jake digs a little hole in the freshly lain soil, separating one of the seedlings delicately and placing it in the soil. "Be careful of the roots." Jake adds, and Dwight nods. 

Jake watches with a faint, charmed smile as Dwight enthusiastically digs the ground for the plants, focusing on separating them with careful precision. Jake stands once they put everything in the ground, subconsciously offering Dwight his hand. Dwight hesitates for a moment before taking Jake's hand, pulling himself up. Their hands linger together for a moment. When their hands drop Jake can see from the corner of his eye how red Dwight's face is, the man making intense eye contact with the ground. Jake tries to ignore how warm his own face feels. 

After feeding the chickens they themselves sit down for lunch on the porch, and after a brief visit from the crow, which eyed Dwight suspiciously while still accepting offered crusts from the bread, Dwight heads home.

—

Jake is once again left alone with his thoughts when Dwight leaves, and naturally they drift back to him. A warmth fills him at the thought of Dwight, settling in his chest and in the pit of his stomach. The feelings he harbours towards the man, the nervousness he hoped would dissipate as he spent more time with the other, had in fact done the opposite, only solidifying into something more tangible. 

What he thought could have just been loneliness and the unfamiliarity of spending time with another person had solidified into something else, and Jake isn't stupid. 

Of course, he knows he gets nervous around other people, although he rarely outwardly shows it. But the unfamiliarity of them, of maintaining a connection, he was never good at it in the past, and it made him nervous and uncomfortable to think about. His most consistent form of socialising up until this point had been during his monthly, sometimes twice monthly if absolutely necessary, visits to the supermarket, where he would spend as little time interacting with the cashiers as possible. It makes sense for him to feel strange about suddenly having someone constant in his life, that he _enjoys_ having around. It's completely foreign and he doesn’t blame himself for feeling in over his head about it.

But the tight, giddy nervousness and the warmth he gets in his chest and face at the thought of the guy isn't normal, and it isn't going away or settling down like he presumed (and hoped) it would given some time. When Dwight smiles at him he feels flustered, the warmth and friendliness in his face makes Jake's face feel physically warm and he knows that's not a normal response. He knows that doesn’t just come from a place of nerves and unfamiliarity.

He's never felt like this when thinking about another person. He's avoided thinking about what it means for him, but he knows he can't just keep ignoring it.

 _This is a crush, you have a crush on Dwight._ Jake blinks slowly and sits down. The realisation is almost too much for him to process. He's never had a crush on anyone, never been in love. He thought it would stay that way and he was okay with that. He's always been under the impression that a life of solitude would suit him fine, that it's what he wants. 

He was never interested in girls in school, and never really had the time for a relationship either, his father forcing him to stay home and study (not that he ever did that, but that didn't hinder his father from killing his social life). But he wasn't bothered by that aspect of himself, by the thought of being alone. He came to crave it. So as his life played out, he never put much thought into relationships. He knew where he wanted to end up, and as he looks around the woods surrounding him now he knows that it's where he is.

But Dwight isn't a girl. He realises it never even crossed his mind that maybe the reason he couldn’t see a future with a female was because he has a preference for... well, guys. The thought hits him hard. He just... thought he didn’t like women and left it at that, never even considering guys as an option. It isn't like his parents ever made it an option, either. Living a sheltered youth with parents that tried to push him towards academic excellence during his schooling, and in the case of his older brother, pushing him into trying to find the "perfect girlfriend" to potentially settle down with and carry the family name once he finished school. Jake almost retches at the thought. He does smirk to himself slightly at the thought of his family though, wondering just how angry his dad would be if he knew Jake had a crush on a guy.

He also realises that the middle of the woods, disconnected from all society, probably isn't a great place to explore your sexuality either, usually. It's not everyday you come across a cute guy bleeding out on the forest floor while on a morning walk. The realisation that he likes a guy feels a bit like a puzzle piece has been slotted into the right place in his identity, a strange sense of peace and relief coming with the epiphany. Almost as if he's found a piece of himself he doesn’t realise he was looking for.

He still can't help feeling a bit like a fish out of water, though. A part of him feels... betrayed, almost. He always thought he was happier alone. He thought it would stay that way, that he wouldn't want anyone to stay in his life. And yet, here he is. Not only does he simply tolerate Dwight's company, he likes it, he searches for it, finding excuses to invite him back and spend more time with him. Try as he might to justify it as fact-finding for his, slightly ridiculous, he admits, but in the same breath somewhat _plausible_ werewolf theory, he knows that his desire to spend time with Dwight stretches further than just that. 

Speaking of the whole.. werewolf thing, he's surprised to find just how little it actually bothers him. It's definitely not a confirmed theory by any means but Jake realises that even if, by some strange shift in reality, it turns out to be true, it doesn’t bother him anywhere near as much as he figures it probably should. 

Above all, Jake just finds him... really cute and charming, with his wide, worried eyes, freckle (and scar) spotted skin, dark, fluffy-looking hair, his nervous, but kind smile. He feels flustered just thinking about him and he internally curses. The floodgates in his mind that had been dutifully holding back all these thoughts feel like they've been wrenched open and now he's being left to drown in all the new overwhelming revelations.

He doesn’t really know what to do. There's no one he can turn to in this situation, his only really close contact being _Dwight himself_. On instinct he almost wants to do what he has always done, to build up his walls and run from his problems, to cut Dwight out of his life. But he... he knows that's not really what he wants. Sure, it worked in the past but this... it's different. _He doesn't want to loose Dwight._ The part of him that feels betrayed about wanting Dwight to be in his life is now standing next to the part of him that realises that his life had been, up until this point, very lonely, and the loneliness casts a longer shadow. 

This is quite a confronting thought for him and he isn’t really sure how to move on from it, so he simply stands, looking for something to occupy his mind with. 

—

Dwight knows he needs to finish off some work for tomorrow, but his focus is elsewhere. He sits at his table, unfinished work sprawled across it, his laptop humming quietly in front of him. The light from the screen is burning itself into his retinas and the noise of it into his brain, however quiet it may seem. He knows how important it is he finishes these reports but his brain cannot tear itself away from Jake long enough for him to write anything substantial. 

It's true, he slept quite well, it was the longest and most restful sleep he's had in a while. It took a fair while for him to actually drift off, however. Sharing a bed with Jake was much more of an overwhelming experience than he had expected. they were so close to each other, and it sent all of his senses into overdrive. He could feel the body heat radiating from the other, hear every breath and _god, the smell._ Jake’s bed smelt so strongly of him and it nearly drove him insane. He knows he should have expected as much, but he's never really slept in someone else’s bed, so it was a new experience. 

It made him realise just how close the next full moon is. The whole time he was lying there his brain would _not_ shut up, as if he wasn't already hyperaware of the fact that Jake was right next to him. 

He thinks about what this all means, in a grander scheme. They had shared a dinner. Jake asked him to stay the night. There was something so intimate about the whole experience. He lets out an exhausted sigh as his head slips out of his hands, hitting the table with a loud thunk. He has no idea how he got himself into this situation, and no clue how to get back out. He's already at least knee deep in a grave he's in the process of digging for himself, and he doesn’t know how to climb out without hurting the both of them. He keeps succumbing, feeding the part of himself he doesn’t have much control over and as he does so he feels as though his grasp on what little control he has left is going to slip. Soon enough it's going to spiral into something he won't be able to reel back in.

He's angry at himself for picking up the shovel. He's left people behind before, it wasn't so hard in the past. He's never had trouble separating himself from a place in the past. One of his colleagues starts getting too suspicious of him, the work environment gets colder towards him than he's comfortable with, someone starts paying a little too much attention to his "sick" days, the list goes on. He'd simply pack himself up and move on. But none of those situations even mirrored this one. The closest situation he's ever been in to this was when he left his mother. She was better off without him around. He's a danger. A monster. A burden. And Jake would be better off too. But he's afraid he's pushed the limit this time. That was different still, it wasn't like he could live with his mother for all of time, better to leave quickly than never at all. This time he fears It's not just himself he's going to hurt. The fact that Jake resides in the forest he goes to for transformations does not go unnoticed either, rather, it just adds to the list of reasons on why Dwight has fucked up.

Jake means something to him. He means a lot to him, actually, Dwight knows this. And while this _is_ still a problem, it's one that only impacts himself. The problem that he can't fix so easily, is if he means something to Jake, and he can't help but feel like this must be the case, to some extent, as hard as the idea is for him to grasp. He has no worth, his company isn't something to be sought after, and yet, Jake continues to interact with him. He doesn’t know why, can't possibly imagine what Jake sees in him. But if, somehow, Jake has managed to squeeze some kind of value out of Dwight's company that he himself cannot see, it makes it a lot harder to cleanly fill the hole and find new ground to stand on. He doesn’t want to hurt Jake but he feels like sticking around is likely to be far more of a problem.

As far as Dwight knows, the attachment he has to the man puts them both in danger. _He's so selfish. He could have prevented this._ He slams his laptop shut and stands with a weary sigh, trudging to his room. He pulls the curtains shut and buries himself under the covers of his bed. He'd either deal with the paperwork when he woke up or he'd deal with the consequences when he got to work, he supposes it depends on how he feels when he wakes. Right now he just feels frustrated and upset and all he wants to do is hide from a world that turned him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ello, edited this when it was really late so it might be kinda dodge but I just really wanted to post idk


	9. Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, hello yes sorry I'm not dead,,

Dwight's leg bounces as he glances at his watch once more. _Just three more minutes and he can leave._ He's cutting it closer to sundown than he's comfortable with, he can already feel his skin crawling, but he didn’t have much of a choice other than to take the extra hours of work. He watches the minutes tick over and stands abruptly, packing his desk up and grabbing what he needs to finish off, moving to get himself out of there and on the road as soon as possible. He doesn’t have time to go back to his apartment, thankful he had the forethought to pack his backpack and leave it in his car before heading into work. 

His hands feel clammy as he clings onto the steering wheel, his body tense and mind wired in anticipation and dread. this is the worst he can remember feeling before a full moon in a long time, which says a lot considering how much he usually hates the whole ordeal. The urgency is definitely a factor, but Jake is also playing on his mind. 

Dwight wants to label it as just paranoia, but he can't help but feel the emotional attachment he has to Jake is dangerous. He has never allowed himself to be in a situation like this before, and for good reason, he can't help but think. He knows the attachment goes further than just himself, and he has no way of knowing what consequences that will bring. The unpredictability of the wolf scares him more than anything else.

The problem comes with the fact that theres a separation between what Dwight considers to be himself and the wolf in his mind, where there never used to be. At the very start it was just him, but in the form of the wolf every full moon. Gradually though, a split occurred in his mind, separating the two. He never really noticed it happen until he realised that he was more of a voice in the back of the wolf's mind when a full moon comes around. Now it feels more like the wolf exists as a separate part of him, but it _isn't_ him. It leaves room for unpredictability, which frightens him.

He doesn’t really know if it's like that for other werewolves, but it isn't like there's anyone he could ask about it. He's never really met another werewolf.

...His only real interaction with another was with the one who bit him. 

As the wolf, he most often finds himself flooded with grief, frustration and anger in a way that he can't control. The emotions often somehow feel more potent while he's in that state. It's a big part of why he has never allowed himself to interact with a human in wolf form (outside of his experience last full moon, at least). He doesn’t know what to expect out of such an occurrence, but he prays it would never result in him biting them. The last thing he'd ever want to do is spread this curse. However, he has no idea if this sentiment is carried by the wolf as well. The possibility that it could be instinctual, that he wouldn’t be able to prevent himself from biting someone, haunts him. So he does his best to avoid any situation that could lead him to the answer.

He can’t risk that uncertainty. He can't risk ruining Jakes life like that, or worse. His resolve hardens to distance himself from Jake. He deserves better than Dwight. Someone whole. Someone _human_.

Dwight feels like crying as he parks his car and the building pain in his body doesn’t help. He doesn’t have time for that right now though, so he slides off his glasses and places them into their case before tucking them into the glove box. He steps out of his car, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder and hastily moving off into the forest, taking himself as far away as he can from Jakes house before the moon starts to rise.

—

Jake stares out the window as he pulls on his gloves, unable to make out any details beyond the first row of darkened trees. He doesn’t really know what he's thinking, what he wants to find out there as he shoves his feet into his worn in hiking boots. The full moon hangs in the sky, obscured by clouds. Somewhere buried deep in the woods a wolf cries out, met by returned melancholy calls. He ties his scarf around his neck and pulls it up over his mouth. He casts his gaze back to the window and pauses for a moment before pulling open the drawer of the console. He rifles through it, pulling out a torch and a hunting knife in its sheath. He straps the knife to his leg, hoping that he wont have to use it but feeling safer with it on him. He flicks the torch on to ensure it works and takes one final look back at his house before stepping out the door and locking it behind him. 

The cold night air hits his lungs and he settles further into his scarf. He begins to regret his decision as he flicks on the torch and starts making his way through the dark forest, the dry autumnal leaves crunching loudly under his shoes in the stagnant night air. He glances back briefly at his house and then toward the sky, deciding, admittedly foolishly, to press onward.

He walks, mostly undisturbed, through the trees for a while before idly ending up at what he realises as his subconsciously intended destination, and he then realises he has to admit to himself the purpose of this nighttime venture. He had every intention of finding Dwight out here. 

He finds himself feeling like an utter fool as he stands in the vacant car lot. He let his mind get too carried away with his rather ridiculous werewolf theory and now he stands in the freezing cold under the eerie glow of the full moon. Dwight's car is nowhere to be found in the car park.

Jake stands in the middle of the lot silently for a few moments, contemplating turning around. He hasn’t found what he wants, so what's his business standing out there getting cold. 

He's about to turn back when he remembers that there's another carpark further away. It's a bit more of a trek on foot but he's already come this far. He doesn’t know why he's so committed to this but he figures the security in knowing would do him well. Jake honestly doesn’t know what he really aims to find, either. Would he be disappointed if Dwight's car isn't in that car park either, or relieved? And what would it mean if his car is there?

Jake is too tired and too cold to dwell on all the possibilities. He'll figure it out when he gets there. He looks out into the dense forest and just as he starts walking again a wolf howls in the distance, fuelling his determination to press onward. 

He navigates through the overgrown forest floor with difficulty, starting to regret his late night venture more and more as he grows more weary and tired, but he pushes forward. The torch in his hands does little to cut into the dense trees. He realises he should have tried to find the path and follow it, rather than cutting into the forest, but pushes forward regardless, there isn't much he can do about that now. 

He pushes past a final branch and finds himself in the clearing of the further carpark, feeling quite tired. His flashlight beam sweeps across the space before he freezes it in place, the beam landing on a car. 

Jake wanders over to the vehicle, checking the number plate and peering inside it. The car is undoubtedly Dwight's. Jake looks back up briefly to the sky before casting his gaze back to the old, beaten up car. _That means Dwight's here, then._ Jake looks around. He doesn’t really want to jump to conclusions but he figures it's probably too late for that, considering how he finds himself currently standing in the freezing cold at the dead of night trying to find his friends car in a parking lot in the middle of the woods.

 _So Dwight is probably a werewolf._ He turns the thought over in his mind. He tries to find any other way to rationalise why Dwight's car would be parked in the forest in the middle of the night on the cusp of winter, on a full moon no less, but he comes up empty handed. He looks out into the trees and wonders where Dwight could possibly be right now. 

It crosses his mind that there's another campsite near this carpark. Somehow he highly doubts he'll find anything there, but he's not entirely sure he's willing to accept the reality he's been faced with yet.

As he walks he feels the air getting colder and settles further into his coat, regretting his outing. Technically he's found exactly what he came out here to find, but he's not sure, now that he has, if he actually _wanted_ to find it. He feels like he's carrying information he shouldn’t, like he's learned more than he should, and he doesn’t feel good about it. If Dwight wanted him to know anything he would have told him himself when he felt comfortable enough to do so, but Jake, almost entirely out of character, had to go out and intrude on Dwight's personal life off the back of his own superstitions. 

He arrives at the campsite and just as he suspects there's nothing there. There isn’t even a trace of people, no one's been here for weeks due to the cold weather that has set in recently. His skin crawls as he looks back out into the tree line and he turns around, walking quickly as he follows the path he knows will eventually lead him home. He feels tense and alert as he walks back, despite the tiredness that has started to set in. Leaves crunch beneath his feet as he walks. He can't help but feel like he's being watched and he looks around, but the eerie beam of the flashlight catches on nothing between the trees surrounding him. _Now he's just being paranoid._ The weight of what he's now pretty sure of sits on his shoulders and it feels heavy. He wonders what it means for him and Dwight.

_Is Dwight a threat to him?_

The thought crosses his mind and he involuntarily shivers. He's gotten glimpses of how strong the other is in the past but he's sure he doesn’t really know what Dwight is capable of. 

But then again, this is Dwight he's thinking about. Everything else about Dwight's nature is so... gentle and timid. Jake frowns as he realises why Dwight is probably like that, wondering if it’s a compromise for whatever happens during a full moon... 

Jake is snapped out of his thoughts when something cracks behind him and he instantly whips around to check what, his flashlight skimming over the trees. Instead of catching nothing this time the light catches onto bright eyes that are reflected back at him. Jake feels the blood drain from his face as the low, threatening sound of growling meets his ears.

His hand instantly moves to the knife at his side, pulling it out and brandishing it as a wolf emerges from the trees, growling lowly. A second one steps out from behind it a moment later. Everything is still for a breath as the two creatures and Jake stare each other down. Jake can hear his blood pumping in his ears. His hands feel clammy beneath the gloves.

In the blink of an eye the first creature pounces, knocking him backward and to the ground. A startled yelp forces its way past his mouth as the air is knocked from his lungs. The knife and flashlight are flung out of his hands as its jaw sinks just far enough through his thick jacket to pierce the skin.

He gulps for air and shoves the creature hard with his free hand, trying to get it off of him, but its jaw remains clamped around his arm. The other wolf lurches forward and clamps its jaw into his left leg, breaching the thinner fabric with much more ease. He instantly kicks out at the second creature with his other leg, making hard contact with it’s muscular body. The kick dislodges the wolf, which lets out a pained yelp and whine.

The first wolf suddenly drops the vice grip on his arm and looks into the forest. Jake follows the creature's gaze and sees nothing in the darkness. He then registers hearing footfalls rapidly approaching. _Something else is coming._ Jake squeezes his eyes shut in panic, his heart thrumming loud in his ears. _He's going to die here._

He hears a deep, threatening growl from the trees followed by a loud whine. The weight pinning him down is suddenly knocked away. His eyes fling open to see a creature which, from what he can tell in the darkness, resembles the other wolf at a first glance, but upon closer inspection Jake realises is _much_ larger. As he realises this the creature stands on its hind legs, drawing up its full height and towering over the other wolves. Jake scrambles backwards on his hands, grabbing his knife as the wolves snap and growl at the larger creature. Jake can feel his heart pounding in his throat and the taste of metal has found its way into his mouth.

The first wolf snaps at the far larger creature but it simply lashes out with its sharp, almost hand like claws, the fur of the smaller creature becoming quickly matted with blood as its knocked back by the attack. It whimpers as it scrambles to its feet, disappearing into the dense forest in an instant. The other wolf turns and hastily follows after the first, tail between it's legs.

The other far larger creature stands there for a moment, heaving and panting. It's tail swishes back and fourth in an agitated manner. It turns to face Jake, who blanches in his position on the floor beneath the enormous bipedal wolf-like creature. It looks like it stands at at least seven feet tall, but Jake can't tell from his position on the ground. He doesn’t dare breathe or even move as his panicked gaze travels up the creature to meet with wide yellow eyes. He's accepted his fate as the giant creature stares down at him, but theres a hesitation in its eyes and he spots almost a spark of... recognition.

In the faint glow of the moonlight his eye catches on something. Jake immediately recognises the familiar silvery scar that runs down the muzzle of the creature.

_"...Dwight?"_

The wolf stands over him for a moment longer and Jake feels his heart stop in his chest in fear. He sees something shift in its gaze and it drops its head, almost shamefully, before turning around and bounding off into the tree line. It's gone in a matter of moments.

Jake's back hits the hard ground with a muted thud as he releases a breath for the first time in a long time, his heart pounding out of his chest. His arm starts to sting, and his leg even more so, as the adrenaline slowly dissipates from his body and he recognises the urgency in which he needs to get back home. He grunts as he picks himself up from the ground. He relies on the remaining adrenaline and fear coursing through his bloodstream to carry him home. The pain in his leg grows as he places more pressure on it, making it harder to walk and he pauses, eyes darting through the trees in paranoia as he stands still. He hastily pulls off his scarf and wraps it tightly around his leg, praying it's enough to subside the bleeding while he walks the rest of the way home. He finds himself instinctively biting down on the collar of his jacket to remain silent and avoid drawing attention to himself.

—

As soon as he makes it home he heads straight to the bathroom. He sits down, feeling exhausted and light headed from blood loss. He knows the wound on his leg is far worse but the punctures in his arm are currently unaddressed, the scarf wrapped tightly around his left leg hopefully slowing enough of the blood loss. He pulls his jacket off first, finding the right sleeve of the flannel underneath to be soaked in blood around the elbow. He unbuttons the flannel and slips it off, hissing in pain as the motion disturbs the wound.

He slowly stands from his position sitting on the closed toilet lid and nearly falls over, catching himself on the sink. He feels woozy and lightheaded as he switches on the tap. He dunks a hand towel into the sink and uses it to rinse off the excess blood, revealing the source of the bleeding. some of the skin underneath is bruised also. He's exhausted and sore as he stands there staring at the mirror. All he really feels capable of doing in this moment is crawling under his bed covers and sleeping this away, as though it's all just a bad dream, but he knows better than to leave a bite wound untreated. He pulls out his medkit, feeling thankful Dwight restocked it for him however long ago. Jake involuntarily shudders at the thought of the man.

He quickly patches up his arm before moving on to the more serious injury at his leg. A wave of nausea hits him as he unties the scarf from around his leg and he holds himself up against the sink, trying not to pass out. He shucks off his blood soaked cargo pants, revealing the deep bite on his lower thigh, just above the knee which is still oozing slightly, but a lot of the blood has dried. He wipes the area clean and applies pressure to the area to stop any further bleeding. He sterilises and disinfects the wound before he wraps it tightly and takes some painkillers. He looks around at all the mess in the bathroom and ultimately decides he will deal with it when he wakes up, feeling too sore, tired and shaken to think about dealing with that right now.

Jake pulls his curtains shut in his room and promptly huddles under the cover of his bed. He feels very shaken from the encounter but he's far too exhausted to properly process it. He falls asleep almost as soon as he hits the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever, the main issue was this kind of writing is out of my comfort zone hence self doubt hence procrastination, but I hope it turned out ok regardless, hopefully there wont be such a ridiculous pause between the next chapter too
> 
> Thanks for reading as always :)


End file.
